University of Alberta

The Interrupted Narrative. Tadeusz Peiper and His Vision of Literature (1918-1939) by Piotr Grella-Mozejko ©

A thesis submitted to the Faculty of Graduate Studies and Research in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

Comparative Literature

Edmonton, Alberta Fall 2008 Library and Bibliotheque et 1*1 Archives Canada Archives Canada Published Heritage Direction du Branch Patrimoine de I'edition

395 Wellington Street 395, rue Wellington Ottawa ON K1A0N4 Ottawa ON K1A0N4 Canada Canada

Your file Votre reference ISBN: 978-0-494-46324-6 Our file Notre reference ISBN: 978-0-494-46324-6

NOTICE: AVIS: The author has granted a non­ L'auteur a accorde une licence non exclusive exclusive license allowing Library permettant a la Bibliotheque et Archives and Archives Canada to reproduce, Canada de reproduire, publier, archiver, publish, archive, preserve, conserve, sauvegarder, conserver, transmettre au public communicate to the public by par telecommunication ou par Plntemet, prefer, telecommunication or on the Internet, distribuer et vendre des theses partout dans loan, distribute and sell theses le monde, a des fins commerciales ou autres, worldwide, for commercial or non­ sur support microforme, papier, electronique commercial purposes, in microform, et/ou autres formats. paper, electronic and/or any other formats.

The author retains copyright L'auteur conserve la propriete du droit d'auteur ownership and moral rights in et des droits moraux qui protege cette these. this thesis. Neither the thesis Ni la these ni des extraits substantiels de nor substantial extracts from it celle-ci ne doivent etre imprimes ou autrement may be printed or otherwise reproduits sans son autorisation. reproduced without the author's permission.

In compliance with the Canadian Conformement a la loi canadienne Privacy Act some supporting sur la protection de la vie privee, forms may have been removed quelques formulaires secondaires from this thesis. ont ete enleves de cette these.

While these forms may be included Bien que ces formulaires in the document page count, aient inclus dans la pagination, their removal does not represent il n'y aura aucun contenu manquant. any loss of content from the thesis. Canada For: my Father, Prof. Edward Mozejko Kasia Zoledziowski Anya Grella-Mozejko

with deep gratitude The Interrupted Narrative. Tadeusz Peiper and His Vision of Literature (1918-1939)

Abstract

This doctoral dissertation focuses on the Polish avant-garde thinker and practi­ tioner Tadeusz Peiper (1891 - 1969) (who was active mainly between the First and the Second World Wars) and on his work in the literary domains of theory, criticism, poetry, drama and novel. Between 1918 and 1939 Peiper had become the leading theorist of the Polish avant-garde in general and the so-called

Krakow Avant-garde [Awangarda krakowska] in particular. His role as a leader of the progressive literary movement in the newly-independent Poland is hard to overestimate - and begs to be investigated from both the historical and criti­ cal perspectives. The dissertation is intended to offer a detailed descriptive an­ alysis of Peiper's writings, his theories and criticism, as well as their manifesta­ tions within the realm of creative writing. It is argued that without Peiper's broad influence, the avant-garde movement in Poland - and its subsequent international image - would be incomplete.

Based on significant examples, many translated from Polish into English for the first time, the dissertation offers a comparative analysis, and later, a summary of the development of Peiper's thought within the context of the

Polish and European avant-garde and modernist movements; it deals at length with relationships between Peiper's theories and their practical manifestations

- his critical writings, poetry, drama and prose. Foreword: The Interrupted Narrative

The dissertation focuses on the Polish avant-garde thinker and practitioner

Tadeusz Peiper (1891 - 1969), who was active mainly between the First and the

Second World Wars, and on his work in the literary domains of theory, criti­

cism, poetry, drama and novel. Between 1918 and 1939 Peiper had become the

leading theorist of the Polish avant-garde in general and the so-called Awan- garda krakowska [Krakow Avant-garde] in particular. His role as a leader of the

progressive literary movement in the newly-independent Poland is hard to

overestimate - and begs to be investigated from both the historical and critical

perspectives. The dissertation is intended to offer a detailed descriptive analysis

of Peiper's writings, his theories and criticism, as well as their manifestations

within the realm of creative writing. It is argued that without Peiper's broad

influence, the avant-garde movement in Poland—and its subsequent interna­

tional image—would be incomplete.

Through his theories, critical articles, and artistic endeavours such as po­

etry, novel(s) and stage works, Peiper was able to offer an interesting and origi­

nal alternative to Polish Futurism, Expressionism and traditional offshoots of

pre-First World War Romanticism, Realism, Naturalism and Symbolism, as

well as to two main "made in Poland" movements: the radical Formists and the

classicist Skamander groups. Throughout the twenty years between the wars,

Peiper, then and now often referred to as the "Pope" of the Polish avant-garde

(or at least the "pope" of Polish avant-garde poetry), attracted a closely-knit group of followers who gradually came to the forefront of Polish literature. The fact that in the end many of these followers chose creative and theoretical paths different from the ones proposed by Peiper does not in any way under­ rate the latter's importance as—along with Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz (the famous Witkacy) and Leon Chwistek—possibly the most conscious and well- read, intellectually refined (one would say "cosmopolitan" in the best sense of the word), disciplined, versatile and forward-looking of all his contemporary

Polish literary theoreticians. The aim of the dissertation is to offer an inte­ grated look at the various aspects of Peiper's theoretical and creative output, as well as to (re)evaluate his position in the broader context of European avant- garde and modernism.

Based on significant examples, many translated from Polish into English for the first time, the dissertation offers an analysis, and later, a summary of the development of Peiper's thought within the context of the Polish and European avant-garde and modernist movements;1 it deals at length with relationships between Peiper's theories and their practical manifestations - his critical writ­ ings, poetry, drama and prose.

[A note on the approach to translation: in most cases every effort had been made to capture Peiper's unique style, both in his critical prose and poetry. Al-

Peiper witnessed the outbreak of the First World War in Paris where, among others, he at­ tended Bergson's lectures. A citizen of the Austro-Hungarian empire, he was allowed to leave for Spain where he could receive money from Poland (his family was fairly well off), and where he remained until 1921. In Spain, he met numerous avant-garde artists and began his critical work by publishing in a local periodical (in Spanish). There he also began his work as a transla­ tor. See: Stanislaw Jaworski, U podstaw awangardy. Tadeusz Peiper pisarz i teoretyk. (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie 1980) 10-15. though several of his poems have been already translated into English, they were not used in this text in their existing English renditions, for they seemed too literal, too prose-like. Alternatively, these and other poems were translated with Peiper's intricate poetic technique in mind, and involving assonances, dis­ tant rhymes, irregular metre and the like. When necessary, the usual—always small—liberties were taken in regards to Peiper's original lexis and syntax in order to convey his messages more clearly to the English reader. Such liberties never affect the overall content of a poem or prose fragment preselected for translation.]

Given the interconnectedness of Peiper's theories and praxis, it seems feas­ ible in my project to deal simultaneously with Peiper the theorist and critic, along with Peiper the poet, dramatist and novelist.

i° Of the three aforementioned major Polish contributions to aesthetics dur­ ing the inter-war period—those of Witkacy, Chwistek and Peiper—Peiper's was decidedly the most positive, pragmatic and consciously divested of serious philosophical discourse. If, on the one hand, Witkacy's integral system of cata­ strophic monadic philosophy (he called it biological monadism) imbued his theory of Pure Form with metaphysical despair, and, on the other hand,

Chwistek's rational, anti-metaphysical approach through formal logic and sci­ entific methods laid foundations for his Theory of Plurality of Realities in art,2

Peiper's anti-psychological, pragmatic theory focussed on technical aspects of

Jerzy Kwiatkowski. Dwudziestolecie miqdzywojenne [The Twenty Interwar Years] (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN 2001) 17-30. craftsmanship such as poetic sentence, metaphor and the ensuant form. It can be argued that, in spite of Witkacy's and Chwistek's "fashionableness," Peiper's project resulted in and exercised a more far-reaching influence then the other two.

20 Another convincing point can be made in relation to Peiper's masterly approach to art and literary criticism. In many instances his critical statements anticipated creative discoveries in the areas such as kinetic sculpture (and ki­ netic art), film (along with Karol Irzykowski and Leon Trystan, Peiper belongs to the triumvirate of the most influential film critics in pre-war Poland), televi­ sion and, partially, music (cf. his prediction of music created by machines), to mention a few.

3° As it has often been pointed out, Peiper's theories and critical articles served as a springboard of sorts for his artistic activities - and vice versa. Not infrequently, the commentators held this self-conscious tendency against the man, trying to prove that, in a sense, he was a victim of his own ideas, slavishly following the theoretical concepts laid out earlier, or conceived as a result of discoveries made within narrative modes.3 Yet, it can easily be posited that in this particular case the close connections between theory and practice did in­ deed bring about some of the best poetry and stage works written in Poland during the course of the 20th Century, and predating—albeit in a rather narrow

3 "[i]t is impossible to avoid the overwhelming impression that his poetic practice was to a large extent determined by his theories, and that the theories are the basis of both the virtues and shortcomings of his poetry." Bogdana Carpenter, op cit. 109. scale—narrative strategies introduced by the writers who debuted after World

War II, including postmodernists..

4° As well, it seems necessary to examine Peiper's social stance, especially in light of some attempts by the Polish Marxists to attribute to him—more or less—a decidedly leftist (albeit not Communist) outlook.4 Although it is true that before the Second World War Peiper did identify himself with the left wing of the political spectrum (his position in this regard might be referred to as that of a liberal socialist), it is also true that he never identified himself with the dogmatic Marxist Left. His self-imposed silence after the war well attests to that. It is argued that, in the case of Peiper, an ideological evolution, rather than a constant (static) outlook, is seen: from the purely aesthetic stance of the early (Spanish) period to the leftist radicalisation of the late 1920s and early

1930s to the resigned neutrality, or neutral resignation, after 1939-1945.5

The project is meant to fill a gap in modern scholarship. The advantages of conducting research on the theoretical and artistic work of Tadeusz Peiper and its corollaries are fourfold:

i° At present, there are very few studies available in English which deal with the Polish avant-garde before 1939 in its fascinating (even "exotic") richness, encompassing if not all, then at least the majority of movements, forms and

4 Cf. Marian Stejneri and Krzysztof Wozniakowski. Polska lewica literacka [The Literary Left in Poland] (Warszawa: Paristwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe 1985) 222-227 and 354"355- 5 While briefly discussing Peiper's post-World War Two ideological stance, in addition to the existing documentation, the argument is supported by interviews conducted with the artist's surviving relatives, to whom I have access through my ex-wife and her older sister, the latter living in Warsaw. genres generally referred to as "avant-garde" or "modernist."6 Within this con­ text, and according to Polish literary criticism, Peiper's position is unassailable, yet its informative, historical justification from the point of view of English- based literary scholarship requires explanation - and elucidation.

2° Even more scarce, nay!, non-existent, are English-language texts offering a detailed look at the Tadeusz Peiper aesthetics and poetics.7 Without such an evaluation of describing and analysing Peiper's aesthetics and poetics, it is practically impossible to examine convincingly the phenomenon of the inter- war Polish literary movements, be it "avant-garde" or "classicist."

3° The project aims at creating an opportunity for comparative analysis and decoding of Peiper's constructs—he disliked the term "theory/theories"—such as his take on poetic metaphor and his concept of "pseudonyms," and those of

Thomas Stearns Eliot (namely "the objective correlative"), of Victor Shklovsky

("ostranenije" i.e. "defamiliarisation"), of Boguslaw Schaeffer (b. 1929), Polish avant-garde composer, playwright, philosopher and theorist ("denaturisation"), and of Umberto Eco ("closed and open texts"). The goal is to prove there exist similarities between these concepts, and to demonstrate Peiper's significant contribution to the development of the avant-garde literary theory in Poland.

It is implied that his chosen language of communication, i.e. Polish of course,

As a matter of fact, the abovementioned 1983 pioneering title The Poetic Avant-garde in Po­ land igi8-ig^Q by Bogdana Carpenter still remains the main reference source on Polish pro­ gressive literature of that period, available in English. The time is ripe for this truly outstand­ ing publication to be followed by studies offering analyses written from a different point of view, and of more detailed character. 7 Not even a single Peiper article is at present available in English. may have prevented Peiper's concepts from reaching a wider audience. In con­ cord with Peiper's own broad, interdisciplinary methodology, emphasis is placed on interdisciplinary comparative approach, drawing parallels between theoretical models used in literature, contemporary (avant-garde) classical music, and visual arts.

4° Also, the project allows for a re-evaluation of Peiper's theoretical stance and his artistic achievement. Here, the dichotomy, or, perhaps ambiguity, within Peiper's own work as theorist and artist (poet, novelist, playwright) mer­ its investigation. It is proposed to denote Peiper as a "pragmatic modernist" whose theories remained firmly rooted in the avant-garde soil, yet his artistic evolution finally pointed toward the acceptance of the more traditional, "classi­ cist" paradigm. In this sense, and if such a statement is not too far-fetched,

Peiper may be—paradoxically perhaps—categorised as a "proto- postmodernist," as such evolution, from experiment to tradition (enriched by the former), is not uncommon among artists associated with the post-modern awareness.

Before commencing the main argument—and before dealing at length with a subject so foreign, or so unknown, to the general English language-based lit­ erary scholarship—it appears necessary to begin the discourse with its socio- historic setting. In the introductory chapter information is given on the his­ toric situation of Poland immediately before and after the First World War.

Poland's history is comparatively little known to the English language reader. Of course, there exist works focusing on history of Poland, but they are often outdated or, as is the case of the Norman Davies publications, not free from controversy. At the same time, it seemed necessary to provide a historical set­ ting for further argument, especially in relation to Tadeusz Peiper's biography.

Certain biographical facts are better understood when seen from a broader per­ spective and hence the decision to include more information on Poland's his­ tory during the years 1918 - 1939 - the period of his most energetic and influen­ tial creative as well as theoretical activity.

Chapter Two provides a general cultural background for further investiga­ tion, as well as Peiper's biography. In accordance with the current tendencies in Polish scholarship targeting foreign audiences, a synthetic view on the de­ velopment and evolution of Polish culture during the interwar years is here in­ cluded. Czeslaw Milosz's seminal work, The History of Polish Literature, serves as a model of such approach. It includes large amounts both of historical and cultural information, offering in one volume an overview of Poland's history, culture and literary phenomena. This synthetic method proposed by Milosz is here followed and used.

The chapter gives an account of Peiper's life as well as a description of him as an individual. Here, a number of extant biographical literary sources, mainly personal stories of not infrequently anecdotic character, as well as interviews conducted with the surviving members of Peiper's family, are used. The inten­ tion is to demonstrate how the author's personality and his life experience in- fluenced his final creative retreat into silence.

Chapter Three is the central one, offering critical analysis and reevaluation of Peiper's poetic achievements during the most productive decades of his ca­ reer as a theorist, poet, critic and polemist. Of special interest here is his work in the area of poetic self-expression. During the period between, roughly, 1918 and 1939, Peiper wrote a great deal on a new understanding of the literary mat­ ter, mainly within the realm of poetry. It is safe to say that he primarily con­ sidered himself a poet and a thinker, and then a prose writer or a dramatist.

Here, Peiper's poetry is looked upon as highly original, even unique, and of much more importance than usually allowed it by Polish scholars, commenta­ tors, and interpreters (with a few exceptions to the rule). The chapter offers close reading of several poems, selected for analysis because of their sheer beauty and metaphoric power.

Chapter Four provides an insight into Peiper's critical and literary preoccu­ pations in the realm of prose writing. 1931 (the year when his poem Na przykiad [For Example] was published) marks the turning point in his career, the transition from the hereto cultivated avant-garde poetics to the endorse­ ment of the realistic narrative code (in Na przykiad and his novels). At this point, this evolution is analysed, centring on his stage works and the 1936 novel, Ma lat 22 [He Is Twenty-two].

The reception of Peiper's discourse in Poland may be divided into four stages, or phases, here for the sake of simplicity referred to as: 1) Dialogue; 2) Neglect; 3) Rediscovery and Interpretation; 4) Consolidation.

1) Dialogue (1918 - 1939). This phase is characterised by a dialogue between

Peiper and his proponents and opponents alike. In the course of these twenty- one years—and indeed in the preceding years, for he had already began pub­ lishing in Spain where he stayed during the Great War—Peiper created the vast majority of his artistic and critical opus and established himself and his work at the centre of the progressive literary movement in Poland. Regardless of what polemics he was involved in, and what polemicists he faced, Peiper was gener­ ally considered a major critical force, to whose project any poets seriously con­ cerned with their own approaches to the poetic language had to refer. Already at this stage the evaluation of his artistic and critical contribution ranged from outright dismissal to admiration, a discrepancy that serves to confirm his im­ portance. One could not doubt that Peiper, along with Tadeusz Boy Zeleriski,

Leon Chwistek, Karol Irzykowski and Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz, belonged during this period to the uppermost echelons of Poland's literary elite, at least as a critic.

2) Neglect (1939 - 1958). A Jew, in 1939 Peiper was forced to run for his life. He ended up in Lwow/Lviv, occupied at that time by the Soviets. Arrested by

NKVD, interrogated, and then reluctantly released, he grew disillusioned as to what the Communist doctrine had to offer. During the midst of the war, living among Polish intellectuals who identified themselves with the new Communist order, Peiper showed signs of impatience and strong resistance toward their values, often newly acquired. After the war, he published sporadically: what appeared were mainly theatrical reviews, fragments of memoirs, a novel and a translation of a Lope de Vega play. Then, as of 1953, Peiper stopped taking part in the public ("official") literary life outright. From then on he would only write, as the popular saying of the day went, "for the drawer." His Avant-garde poetics was not considered valid and valuable during those years, a period of extraordinary Communist oppression and promotion of the aesthetics of the so- called Socialist Realism. A change of attitude came about with the ground­ breaking text by Janusz Slawinski, "Poetyka i poezja Tadeusza Peipera"

[Tadeusz Peiper's Poetry and Poetics], published in 1958 in the literary monthly

Tworczosc [Creation].

3) Rediscovery and Interpretation (1958 - 1983). Slawiriski's article opened new vistas before Polish scholars and writers, offering a brilliant, insightful, fresh and detailed look at Peiper's achievement. It was an inspirational text in the truest sense of the word, which offered new ways of looking at the heretofore neglected Avant-garde aesthetics. This text, which remains fundamental in terms of Peiper scholarship, was followed by a series of analytical studies, both articles and books, dealing with Peiper's oeuvre, now seen as of utmost import­ ance to the development of contemporary Polish poetry and criticism. This process of rediscovery and (re)interpretation culminated in 1968 with the pub­ lication of Stanislaw Jaworski's U podstaw awangardy. Tadeusz Peiper pisarz i teoretyk. [At the Foundations of the Avant-garde. Tadeusz Peiper - Writer and Theoretician], a text that was subsequently revised, expanded, and reprinted in

1980. Later on, starting in 1972, Jaworski initiated the edition of Peiper's writ­ ings, which by 2004 reached seven volumes; this collection is a model achieve­ ment in scholarly editing and publishing style. Other scholars and writers who have contributed major interpretative studies on Peiper and the Krakow Avant- garde during that time include Jan Brz^kowski, Julian Kornhauser, Ryszard

Krynicki, Janusz Kryszak, Julian Przybos, Wieslaw Pawel Szymafiski, Andrzej K.

Waskiewicz, and Adam Zagajewski.

4) Consolidation (1983 - ). The publication in 1983 of two important books,

Bogdana Carpenter's The Poetic Avant-garde in Poland 1918 - 1939 and Andrzej

K. Waskiewicz's W kregu „Zwrotnicy" [The Zwrotnica Circle], marks the begin­ ning of the final phase in the process of reassessing Peiper's oeuvre. The redis­ coveries and reinterpretations of the previous phase now gave way to these broader analyses. With Peiper's position in Polish letters now assured, the era of analysing his work as an integral part of Polish literature in its entirety had begun. Maria Delaperriere's brilliant study, L'avant-garde polonaise et la poesie europeenne. Etude sur limagination poetique (Paris, 1991), is a good illustration of this phenomenon. Delaperriere considers Peiper as one of the most import­ ant writers of the inter-war period, and analyses his work with remarkable ob- jectiveness. The road is now open for monographic Peiper studies in lan­ guages other than Polish. Both the man and his ozuvre fully deserve this recog­ nition. Much gratitude is owed to the Supervisor of the dissertation, Professor Jona­ than Hart, as well as the members of the Supervisory and Examination Com­ mittees, Professors Natalia Pylypiuk, Irene Sywenky, Oleh Ilnytzkyj, and Peter

Rolland. During a very difficult time, their expertise, support and encourage­ ment contributed greatly to finishing the text and giving it the final form.

Also, I owe a lot to two Polish colleagues, Dr Katarzyna Marczak (Krakow) and Dr Jacek Szerszenowicz (Lodz), who provided me with photocopies of rare

Polish Avant-garde publications, including Tadeusz Peiper's Zwrotnica. My project would be impossible to be completed satisfactorily without their help.

Special thanks go to the writers Dan Albertson, Reinhard von Berg, Ron

Hannah and Jerry Ozipko, who collectively made sure that the final version of the text be as free of lexical errors as possible.

Last but not least, appreciation is expressed for the invaluable input re­ ceived from Tadeusz Peiper's nieces, Kasia Zoledziowski of Edmonton, Alberta and her sister, Jagoda Zol^dziowska of Warsaw, Poland. They both made avail­ able much information pertaining to the writer's personal life and to his family history. Table of Contents

Chapter I. Setting the Stage: Poland 1918 - 1939 1

Chapter II. Tadeusz Peiper: Biographical and Intellectual Contexts 30

Chapter III. That Hymn of Silk - Towards the New Poetic Diction 113

Chapter IV. Since He's Not Here - From Avant-garde To Realism 210

V. Bibliography 255 I. Setting the Stage: Poland 1918-1939

Un polonais c'est un charmeur; deux polonais - une bagarre; trois polonais, eh bien, c'est la question polonaise. Voltaire1

Enormous my theatre I see: immense and airy spaces peopled by shadows and faces, their acting so clear to me.

Stanislaw Wyspiariski2

[I.i] In November 1918, after roughly a one-and-a-quarter-century absence from the map of Europe, Poland began taking shape anew.3 One hundred and twenty-three years of partitions—and the country remained divided between the empires of Austria, Russia and Prussia from 1795 (the date of the third, and final, partition which did away with Poland's independent existence altogether) through the very end of the First World War—resulted in almost perfect disin­ tegration of the old socio-political structure. By the turn of the 20th Century there were, in fact, three "Polands:" the relatively strong, modern capitalist, agriculture-driven West which belonged to the German Empire (the city of

Poznari/Posen being its largest administrative centre); the intellectually influ-

1 Quoted (in English) in: Norman Davies, God's Playground: A History of Poland, Vol. I "The Origins to 1795" (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985) 511. English translation goes as follows: 'One Pole - a charmer, two Poles - a brawl; three Poles - ah, that's the Polish Question.' See also: Norman Davies, Europe: A History (Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 1996) 664. The second stanza of the poem J ciqgle widze ich twarze [And always their faces I see, 1904, sent as a letter to his friend, the cultural historian and archivist Adam Chmiel [All translations by P. G-M unless indicated otherwise.]: Teatr moj widze^ ogromny, wielkie powietrzne przestrzenie, ludzie je pelnia^ i cienie, ja jestem grze ich przytomny. 3 Incidentally, 11 November, the date of arrival in Warsaw of Jozef Pilsudski, later Chief of State and supreme military commander, is now the most important Polish national holiday.

1 ential yet economically extremely backward Southeast, which made up the northernmost! and likely the poorest, part of the Habsburg Empire (with

Lwow/Lviv/Lemberg and Krakow/Krakau - in that order - having established themselves as its major cities); and the politically unsettled but rather densely industrialised Centre-North incorporated into the Empire of the Romanovs

(Warszawa, fcodz and Wilno/Vilnius traditionally considered its leading cen­ tres).4 When the three main powers of the region—which in British and North

American historiography has nearly always been referred to incorrectly as East­ ern Europe, whereas in fact it lies exactly in the centre of the continent, only reaching towards North and East—collapsed in the course of World War I, they left behind something akin to a vacuum in which a number of heretofore sub­ jugated, but—apart from the prudent and practical Czechs—never entirely subdued, ethnic and political contestants went gradually into action, compet­ ing for superiority. The chronically undetermined, ever-fluctuating ethnic, cul­ tural, political and economic boundaries—now overlaid, now overlapped— always challenged and contested, were thrown into yet greater confusion by the strokes and counterstrokes of virtually everyone who could exercise even the most minute degree of power. It is not unjustified then to say that in

November 1918 the idea of an independent Poland was reborn - the idea more so than the actual state itself. It took several more years of military fighting

(and also in-fighting) and political strife—the disdainful Churchill famously

4 Cf. Jerzy Tomaszewski and Zbigniew Landau, Polska w Europie i swiecie 1918 -1939 [Poland in Europe and the World 1918 -1939] (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo TRIO, 2005) 164-179.

2 called those conflicts 'the wars of the pygmies'5—before some signs of stability appeared in the wake of the Polish-Soviet war, concluded in 1921, and, in 1922, incorporation into Poland of the greater part of the natural resources- and in­ dustry-rich land of Upper Silesia. This illusory stability (one could with diffi­ culty only call it a balance of power) would last, increasingly fragile, until Sep­ tember of 1939.

[I.2] First of all, it must be assumed that to the majority of inquisitive and curi­ ous minds, Poland may seem a rather uninteresting, unpleasant—if not even absurd, or at least bizarre—country6 of people addicted to excessive idealism who are nonetheless of no practical frame of mind and whose history may on occasion be wonderfully instructive to others as much as it has NOT proven instructive to the Poles themselves. Poles have always seemed oblivious to their own mistakes and the (invariably) ensuing mischief.7 (One of the most popular national proverbs states that 'A Pole wises up after the event,' or, to translate it

'The war of giants has ended, the wars of the pygmies begin' Adrian Hyde-Price, Germany and European Order (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001) 75. Relevant statements will be supplied later on in this chapter. 7 Even a perfunctory study of the colourful, if shady and embarrassing, Polish politics after the fall of communism in 1989 would clearly confirm the above statement. It is very interesting to note that after 1989, as the direct result of disappointment and disillusionment with the new political order as well as with its "old style" Capitalist brutality and perpetuated social- economic instability, many Poles still saw their respective futures abroad, and mass emigration has continued since: 'Only in the 1980s alone Poland lost over a million citizens...' [through voluntary emigration]; 'In 1995 32 percent of the Poles manifested their pro-emigration atti­ tudes'; 'In 2002 it was calculated that after 1999 from 200 to 250 thousand people left Poland declaring unwillingness to return'. Zatozenia programu polityki ludnosciowej w Polsce. Raport w sprawie polityki migracyjnej panstwa [The Foundations of the Programme of Population Policy in Poland. Report on the Migration Policy of the State] (Warszawa: Rzadowa Rada Ludnosciowa [The Government Council on Population], 2006) 1-5.

3 literally, 'after mischiefs done.')8 To quote the disarmingly patronising G. E.

Slocombe at length, who was writing early on in the 20th Century:

Their belief in ultimate and abstract principles becomes almost a pas­ sion. Like most deeply idealistic peoples they are little practical... Be­ side and almost because of their ardent chivalry, their intense idealism, their elaborate culture, there grew in them a strain of extravagance, a vein of intellectual vanity, an aristocratic contempt for things common and (they said) unclean. Thus it occurred that though they could fight hard battles and lose them; could sing heroic songs and compose them; could attain brilliantly to all the distinctions of art and refinement of thought and culture, the Poles could never—until it was too late— settle down soberly to the business of self-government. When they did attempt this, and even seemed likely to succeed at it, their ruin had al­ ready been planned by avaricious neighbours.9

The existing stereotypes of her inhabitants as either stupid drunken peasant boors or cruel noblemen10 chivalrous to the point of idiocy (also habitually in­ ebriated and unspeakably cruel to their hapless peasant subjects)"—both kinds always zealously Roman Catholic, fanatically anti-Russian and largely anti-

Semitic—concur with this image.12

The Polish original, 'Madry Polak po szkodzie,' is a bit ambiguous, as it is not clear whether a Pole caused, or perhaps suffered, harm. Everyday contextual use, however, favours the former interpretation. 9 G. E. Slocombe, Poland (London: T. C. & E. C. Jack, Limited; New York: Frederick A. Stokes Co., 1916) 299-300. But warns Czeslaw Milosz: 'Recent conceptions should not be projected into the past, such as the cliche of Poland's having been inhabited by proud nobles and miserable peasants. This commonplace can hardly be applied to the country in the Middle Ages, when class divisions were not so sharply marked.' Czeslaw Milosz, The History of Polish Literature (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1983) 8. An interesting analysis of "the noble ethos" is given in Norman Davies, Heart of Europe. A Short History of Poland (Oxford, New York, Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1986) 331-336. Cf. Ubu Roi ou les Polonais by Alfred Jarry (1896). It is symptomatic that to enforce his argu­ ment on how volatile the primitive Germans were, and how unpredictable their political as­ semblies, the divine Gibbon uses the example of Poland in his own day. Says he: 'For the Ger­ mans always met in arms, and it was constantly to be dreaded lest an irregular multitude, in­ flamed with faction and strong liquors, should use those arms to enforce, as well as to declare, their furious resolves. We may recollect [Gibbon continues] how often the diets of Poland have been polluted with blood, and the more numerous party has been compelled to yield to the

4 [Only occasionally is the honour of the nation saved, one might say, by

Polish women, praised for their beauty, natural intelligence, industry, faithful­ ness and patriotism; and who count among their trophies such distinguished and different characters as Louis XV, Napoleon, Goethe and Balzac, not to mention a Turkish sultan!].

And it often looks like the Poles themselves are rather clumsy at changing such stereotypical perceptions - to give just a single and very telling example, one will certainly always remember the irrationally pathetic scene in the movie

Lotna by the Oscar-winning director Andrzej Wajda, in which Polish uhlans attack German tanks with their sabres and lances!13 Wajda's licentia poetica, his intentions and overall achievement notwithstanding, that particular scene made for a miserable metaphor.

[To digress a little, it suffices to say that never during the September 1939 campaign did such a thing occur on the Poles' own accord. On the contrary,

Polish cavalry used its mobility and firepower (anti-tank and machine gun units) to a rather great effect at the time.]14 more violent and seditious.' Edward Gibbon, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (Ware: Wordsworth Editions Limited, 1998) 196. He adds, however, in a footnote: 'Even in our ancient parliament, the barons often carried a question not so much by the number of votes as by that of their armed followers.' Ibidem. Two centuries after Gibbon, John Julius Norwich does not hesitate to mention that '[0]ne of the most ancient classical trophies in the city [Constantin­ ople] - the so-called 'Serpent Column' brought by Constantine from Delphi, where it had been erected in the Temple of Apollo by thirty-one Greek cities in gratitude for their victory over the Persians at the battle of Plataea in 479 BC was vandalised in the following way: 'The heads of the three intertwined serpents are believed to have been chopped off by a drunken member of the Polish embassy to the Sublime Porte in 1700.' John Julius Norwich, A Short History of By­ zantium (London, New York, Victoria, Toronto, Auckland: Penguin Books, 1998) 13. Andrzej Wajda, Lotna, screenplay by Andrzej Wajda and Wojciech Zukrowski. Poland 1959. See: Davies, op. cit., Vol. II "1795 to the Present" (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985) 435-439.

5 [I.3] For the sake of pleasure and to further our line of reasoning, let us imagine for a moment the appealing scenario of a newly aroused, friendly mass interest in the aforementioned country and its culture, not just its women and (rather too heavy) cuisine. Such an outpouring of curiosity could never be relied upon, of course, as there are a few other countries in the region, such as Russia, which are traditionally more interesting to scholars and students, if not yet to the un- adventurous tourist. Paradoxically, it seems nowadays people tend to allocate less and less time to things as impractical as heterogeneous cultural discourses

(dialogue; multilogue)/5 while apportioning more and more of it to exploring

(succumbing to) ideologically homogeneous codes of social narrative imposed by the egotistic political, economic and, last but not least, religious genres

(monologue). (To use within this context the expression 'Orwellian' seems too evident, too trivial).16 The deceptively puzzling (i.e. not puzzling at all) break-

Cf. Jan Mukarovsky (Janusz Slawinski, Ed.), "Dialog a monolog" in: Wsrod znakow i struktur. Transl. Jacek Baluch, Marta renata Mayenowa, J6zef Mayen, Lucylla Pszczolkowska (Warszawa: Panstwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1970) 185-222. Although preoccupied with theatre, Mukafovsky's argument can be applied to larger social units and behavioural tropes. Says Lyotard: '259. If humanity were progressing toward the better, it would not be because "things are getting better" and because the reality of this betterment could be attested through procedures for establishing reality, but because humans would have become so cultivated and would have developed an ear so attuned to the Idea (which is nonetheless unpresentable) that they would feel its tension on the occasion of the most apparently impertinent, with regard to it, facts and that they would supply the very proof of progress by the sole fact of their suscepti­ bility. This progress could therefore be compatible with the general feeling that "things are getting worse." In its aggravation, the gap between Ideas and observable historical-political reality would bear witness not only against that reality but also in favor of those Ideas. '260. But what assurance is there that the humans will become more cultivated than they are? If culture (culture of the mind, at least) requires work and thus takes time, and if eco­ nomic genre imposes its stakes of gaining time on the greater part of phrase regimens and genres of discourse, then culture, as a consumer of time, ought to be eliminated. Humans will

6 down of interaction protocols, meaning widespread rejection of simultaneous, concurrent cultural narratives—a process clearly evident between 1914 and 1918 and between 1939 and 1945, and conspicuous in ongoing clashes between the

Christian West and the Islamic Near and Middle East, to mention just the most obvious examples—inspires willingness to dominate, eliminates eagerness to co-participate, and leads to emerging of the intolerant, fearsome and fearful, neo-colonial modes of perception, often manifested in the form of a conde­ scending victimisation of "terrorist" (West) or "infidel" (East) narratives in the name of dubious resistance, prevention and/or improvement.17 Given the com­ plexity of modern international affairs, and the level of political, ideological, economic, and military competition, supposed globalisation—with the notable exception of economic relations—still remains illusory, another case of wishful thinking. News may travel fast, but its impact remains questionable. Or so it may presently appear.

In other words it is not easy to imagine people enthusiastically immersing themselves in something as ostensibly uninteresting, or, to some possibly re-

thereby no longer feel even sorrow before the incommensurability between realities and Ideas, since they will lose their capacity to have Ideas...' Jean-Francois Lyotard, The DIFFEREND: Phrases in Dispute. Translation by Georges Van Den Abbeele (Minneapolis: University of Min­ nesota Press, 1988) 180-181. 17 'Here, I use the notion of "neo-colonial" deliberately [as something occurring] AFTER the "post-colonial." In my opinion it is open for discussion whether we have happily left (neo)colonialism behind. Ongoing attempts at imposing the "New World Order" (including ruthless military interventions in the Balkans and Asia [at the turn of the 21st century] seem to indicate otherwise.' Piotr Grella-Mozejko, "When the Sun Rises in the West: the Art of Karen Tanaka" in: Janice Brown and Sonja Arntzen (Eds.) Across Time and Genre: Reading and Writing Japanese Women's Texts (Edmonton: University of Alberta, 2002) 69.

7 volting, as things Polish.1 But, for the sake of argument, it is worth a try re­ gardless of what one may surmise. So, again, let us now imagine the following situation: A decent, moderately well meaning, intellectually well developed, sensibly attuned to the world (yes, politically correct), person of Western stock and culture, and especially of Anglo-Saxon Protestant stock and culture—it does not matter if of their British or North American varieties—decides to cast eyes on Poland (and why not? Poland is sometimes mentioned in the news af­ ter all) to learn something new. Inevitably, such a person will experience emo­ tional confusion somewhat equivalent to a slightly disdainful shock: despite its obvious appeal, the country, or rather its resultant image, its resultant mental projection, may, and often does, immediately become an illogical, incongruous and totally wanton aberration.

[I.4] Perhaps no other writer has captured this phenomenon better than the

Nobel Prize laureate Czeslaw Milosz (1911 - 2004), himself a controversial fig­ ure, whose bitter (even resentful) and biting irony towards his native (?) coun­ try will perhaps be better understood if one, quite legitimately according to some, and quite incorrectly according to others, sees him as a Lithuanian in disguise rather than a Pole (yet another typically Polish paradox).19 One of the

,0 It remains to be seen whether this very text will ever generate a cult following. 19 In his Nobel lecture he says: 'My family already in the Sixteenth Century spoke Polish, just as many families in Finland spoke Swedish and in Ireland - English; so I am a Polish, not a Lithu­ anian, poet. But the landscapes and perhaps the spirits of Lithuania have never abandoned me...' [Quoted in Nobelprize.org, 8 introductory passages of his excellent, and as for the needs of English-speaking readers, monumental (not to say excessive in its scope), treatise on Polish lit­ erature, offers the following characteristic paragraph:

"[T]he history of Poland and of its literature seems extravagant and full of incongruities: a Slavic nation whose writers, up to the Renaissance, used only Latin; a huge state which, for centuries, stood up to the Teu­ tons, Turkey, and Muscovy but owing to the abuse of its parliamentary system literally fell apart while its once weaker neighbours partitioned it and erased it from the map of Europe for some one hundred and twenty years; an astonishingly vital people who sink easily into moronic apathy and who show their virtues only in circumstances which would crush and destroy any other human group; a refinement of taste, which produced lyrical poetry comparable to that of Elizabethan England, combined with irony and brilliance but always threatened by drunken torpor and parochial numbings; habits of political and religious toler­ ance, acquired in the multidenominational and multinational Respu- blica headed by an elected king, which gave way, as a result of collec­ tive misfortunes, to a wounded, morbid nationalism.... This chaos of elements seemingly so disparate, yet interrelated by logic of their own, may contain some lessons of universal portent."20

To many, not just the ambiguously critical Milosz, this is Poland in a nut­ shell, a country of contradictions that often defy logic. There exists—likely the most striking of them all—a remarkable iconic representation (visual meta­ phor) of this, namely Rembrandt van Rijn's 1637 portrait of a Polish nobleman, in which the grandeur and the imposing body of the model, lavishly dressed in a fur-lined coat and fur cap, imperiously rising a gold-inlaid baton (which indi- http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1980/milosz-lecture-en.html] This and other similarly, or much more, ambiguous statements provide grounds for questioning, or at least investigating, Milosz's real ethnic and cultural identity - and his ethnic and cultural sym­ pathies. See: Andrzej Romanowski, "Czy Czeslaw Milosz musial pisac po polsku?" [Did Czeslaw Milosz have to write in Polish?], Apokryf No 9 (literary supplement) in: Tygodnik Powszechny No 26/1996. There the author well summarises controversies surrounding Milosz, and their provenance. Also: "Grozi nam plaskosc i wulgarnoSc" - z Czeslawem Miloszem rozmawia Jerzy Illg [We are threatened by mediocrity and vulgarity - Jerzy Illg in conversation witch Czeslaw Milosz], ibidem. Czeslaw Milosz, The History of Polish Literature, op. cit., xvii.

9 cates the very high social status of the magnate), harmonise oddly with the contrast offered by the opposition of his cruel lips and a pair of eyes full of cu­ rious pain, set in a face whose crumpled and ruddy cheeks suggest chronic al­ cohol abuse.21 A mixture of proud benevolence and power - and sadistic vul­ nerability.

An introduction into Poland's Second Republic history is in place here in order to provide a few examples to support, and to illustrate, Milosz's state­ ment and prepare the ground for further argument.

[I.5] All in all, and regardless of in which partition zone they travailed, the

Poles were able to lay the groundwork, or so they thought, for future re­ integration of the nation. That all this effort came practically to naught, and that Poland just accidentally 'happened' as it did as a result of the deadly pre­ dicament in which the partitioning powers found themselves in the end - did not really matter. After more than a century of slavery, all aspects of the social code: mental, behavioural (customary), linguistic, economic, legal, cultural, even culinary, exhibited staggering differences and disparities between the three partitioning sectors, or, rather, between three separate Polish societies. Yet, in spite of all these contrasts, the prevailing attitude was that of eagerly yearning for a breakthrough, especially during the Great War. Most fantastical plans were then made and abandoned; wild hopes of certain politi-

21 The painting is simply called A Polish Nobleman. Now in the National Art Gallery in Wash­ ington, DC.

10 cal solutions, created excitement and faded away; fanciful schemes based on bizarre calculations, offered and then withdrawn; dramatic manifestoes, publi­ cised and thrown into wastebaskets. But by 1918, the centripetal societal forces conditioning a positive outcome of the efforts hitherto undertaken gained so much momentum that what may have been seen as a surprise, or a "fluke," was in reality a logical, objective outcome of the overall situation. Oskar

Halecki puts it succinctly: 'The resurrection of the Republic, after more than a hundred years of political non-existence, has been the first act of the still unfin­ ished drama which contemporary Poland is still living through in the full con­ sciousness of its significance and with unshaken faith in its successful resolu­ tion.22 This resurrection was effected in three stages: first, the successive defeat in the war of 1914-1918 of all the partitioning Powers; second, the decisions of the Peace Conference in 1919; third, the complete establishment of the boun­ daries of the renewed Polish State, which dragged on until 1923.,23

The old rulers were tired, their subjects - hungry for change.24

He was first writing this in the early 1940's. First edition of his A History of Poland appeared in 1942. 23 Oskar Halecki, A History of Poland. 9th Edition (New York: David McKay Company, Inc., 1976) 275. 24 There is much truth in what Norman Davies says - and much lyricism: '[M]any Polish histor­ ians have assumed that the rebirth of the Polish state was the natural conclusion of the nation's struggles during the period of Partition. In their view, it formed only the proper, not to say inevitable, destination of 'the Road to Independence'... Yet one cannot assume that the wish was the father of the deed. In actual fact, the Poles were given very little opportunity to fight for their independence. All the enterprises which they undertook in this direction, including the [Pifeudski's] Legions, were defeated. All the plans which were laid for the creation of a Polish state in conjunction with the Central powers, with Russia, or with the Western allies, came to nothing... [T]he wishes and actions of the Polish population were, to the very last moment, largely irrelevant. To at least one sceptical commentator, the creation of independent Poland in 1918 was the result of 'a fluke'. To people of a religious turn of mind, it looked like a

11 [1.6] By 1921, with the Polish-Soviet war handily won, the new Poland had al­ ready solidified its independent existence. Between November 1918, when the process of freeing the country had begun, and 18 March 1921, when the Treatise of Riga was signed, concluding the Polish-Soviet war, with additional territorial acquisitions added following the 3rd Silesian Uprising (2 May - 5 July, 1921), the country took an administrative shape which remained basically unchanged un­ til 1939. More than once during these three decisive years, from 1918 to 1921, did the state find itself on the verge of collapse. Norman Davies provides a truly telling comment on Poland's independence, reflective of what many heads of state, politicians, political theorists and economists thought at the time:

Molotov called it 'the monstrous bastard of the Peace of Versailles'. Stalin called it 'pardon the expression, a state'. J. M. Keynes, the theo­ rist of modern capitalism, called it 'an economic impossibility whose only industry is Jew-baiting'. Lewis Namier [born Ludwik Niemirowski] called it 'pathological.' E. H. Carr called it 'a farce'. David Lloyd George talked of 'a historic failure', which had 'won her freedom not by her own exertions but by the blood of others', and of a country which 'im-

miracle.' Davies, op. cit., Vol. II, 392. Davies may be partly right, but the outcome of the pro­ cess was indeed inevitable, to which the emergence of other new countries in the region some­ what forcefully attests. Lukowski and Zawadzki, while acknowledging the decomposition of the three partitioning powers as a decisive geopolitical factor in Poland's regaining independ­ ence, follow the Carlylean model of heroic history by assigning the supreme r61e to J6zef Pilsudski's influence and will: 'The three empires that had ruled Poland in 1914 were no more; the unbelievable had happened. But a single Poland still had to be created out of the disparate regions and out of the conflicting political and social forces that were now in the open. Pilsudski's return from German captivity on 10 November provided the catalyst for the dra­ matic events of the following days. His role proved providential. His legendary exploits as a fighter for national freedom, his left-wing background yet his readiness to rise above party fac­ tionalism, and his sixteen-month spell in German captivity had earned him wide support among a population desperate to escape wartime privations yet euphoric about the imminence of independence.' Jerzy Lukowski and Hubert Zawadzki, A Concise History of Poland. 2" Edi­ tion (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006) 222.

12 posed on other nations the very tyranny' which it had endured itself for years. 'Poland', he said, 'was drunk with the new wine of liberty sup­ plied to her by the Allies', and 'fancied herself as the resistless mistress of Central Europe'. In 1919, Lloyd George was reported as saying that he would no more give Upper Silesia to Poland 'than he would give a clock to a monkey'. In 1939, he announced that Poland had 'deserved its fate'. Adolf Hitler called it 'a state which arose from the blood of countless German regiments', 'a state built on force and governed by the truncheons of the police and the military', 'a ridiculous state where... sadistic beasts give vent to their perverse instincts', 'an artifi­ cially begotten state', 'the pet lap-dog of Western democracies which cannot be considered a cultured nation at all', 'a so-called state lacking every national, historical, cultural and moral foundation.25

'The coincidence of these sentiments,' Davies continues, 'and of their phraseol­ ogy, is unmistakable. Rarely, if ever, has a newly independent country been subjected to such eloquent and gratuitous abuse.'26

[1.7] Disturbingly unfair though they may seem, such sentiments are easy to understand. The new Poland defied all the negative forecasts and left many hitherto patronising Allied powers wondering how ungrateful the new state was by taking its fate into its own hands and ignoring all the good advice given it. On the opposite point of the spectrum the Germans and the Russians (or, rather, the Soviets) were left beaten, losing big chunks of their pre-war territor­ ies to the state they controlled for good two centuries. On the whole, that out­ come was particularly hard on Germany, which lost rich lands along its eastern borders, such as Silesia, which she considered her own. The results of the 3rd

Silesian Uprising, giving Poland the wealthier part of Upper Silesia, could only

25 Norman Davies, op. cit., Vol. II, 393. Ibidem.

13 affect the German economy in the most negative way, and not only the econ­ omy, but also the nation's sense of pride and justice.

No feature of the Treaty of Versailles stirred more bitter feelings in Ger­ many than the loss of territory to the new State of Poland... If any country had good reason to fear Germany's [enmity] it was Poland. At the Peace Settlement of 1919, and afterwards when Germany was weak, the Poles had acquired territory, the loss of which was more resented by the Germans than perhaps any other part of the Versailles Settle­ ment. In order to provide Poland with access to the sea, Danzig was separated from Germany and made into a Free City, where the Poles enjoyed special privileges, while East Prussia was divided from the rest of the Reich by the Polish Corridor. There was justice on both sides. Much of the land regained by Poland has been first seized by Prussia at the time of the Partitions, and was inhabited by Poles. But the Poles, especially in Silesia, had in turn taken more than they could legiti­ mately claim.27

Such sentiments were shared by many - without and within. Hans Roos well captures these feelings when explaining their origins:

In accordance with the directions of the Supreme Council, the Treaty of Versailles, signed on 28 June 1919, gave Poland the whole province of Posen [Poznan] and border regions of central Silesia and Pomorze [Pomerania], with an access to the sea to the west of Danzig [Gdansk]; altogether an area of about 17,000 square miles. In the Prussian census of these provinces in 1910, 1,714.000 persons had given Polish as their mother-tongue, 1,080,000 had given German, 105,000 Kashubian and 9,000 Masurian; 2,017,000 belonged to the Catholic Church and 904,000 to the Evangelical Church. Thus although the majority of the inhabitants regarded themselves as Poles, and although the German section of the population had been enlarged by the families of officers and civil servants and the German colonization policy of 1886-1916, Po­ land also received areas with exclusively German native populations and individual German colonies. That is why Stanislaw Grabski, a lead­ ing National Democrat politician, emphasized as early as October 1919 that the 'alien element' in Posen and Pomorze must be reduced from '14 or even 20 per cent to 1% per cent'. In fact, with the incorporation of the two provinces zone by zone, which began on 10 January 1920, the German population either migrated or was expelled, and finally only

Alan Bullock, Hitler. A Study in Tyranny (New York: Konecky & Konecky, 1999) 325, 491. about 355,000 old-established Germans remained in these regions.2

The border disputes officially (formally) settled or not, by 1923 Poland found herself firmly on the map of Europe as the sixth largest country, covering an area of 388,600 square kilometres, placing her behind the Soviet Union,

Germany, France, Spain, and Sweden.29 Her extensive borders, which already at the time were promising trouble, were 5,529 kilometres long. In terms of population, Poland was also sixth, behind the Soviet Union, Germany, France, the United Kingdom, and Italy.30 Placed as she was between the grumbling

Germany and the humiliated Soviet Union, Poland tried to attain a balance of power on the international scene, although the ruling elites did realise right from the outset the sheer impossibility of maintaining any sort of splendid iso­ lation in the long run.

[1.8] [ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: The wavering borders notwithstanding, the ethnic composition of Poland's society bore the stamp of provisionality about it

- sooner or later ethnic tensions were bound to arise, a fact of which the lead­ ers of the nation were uneasily aware. In a time of rampant nationalism Poland found herself a multinational, polycultural state, largely acquired and enlarged

Hans Roos, A History of Modern Poland. From the Foundation of the State in the First World War to the Present Day. Translated from the German by J. R. Foster (London: Eyre & Spottis- woode, 1966) 54. Jan Tomicki, II Rzeczpospolita. Oczekiwania i rzeczywistosc [The Second Polish Republic. Expectations vs. Reality] (Warszawa: MIodziezowa Agencja Wydawnicza, 1986) 117-118. Adam Zamoyski, The Polish Way: a Thousand-Year History of the Poles and Their Culture, op. cit, 338-339.

15 by force, seen by many as a living fossil from another, happier (?) epoch. Ac­ cording to the first National Census conducted in September 1921, the overall number of inhabitants was 27.2 million. Ethnic Poles made up about 18.7 mil­ lions of the total number, i.e. 69.2 per cent. Then there were ethnic minorities:

Ukrainians (over 14 per cent, roughly about four million), Jews (7.8 per cent, ca.

2.1 million), Byelorussians (3.9 per cent), Germans (3.8 per cent). There were also Lithuanians, Russians, Czechs, Armenians, even Tartars. Interestingly, over 700 thousand Jews gave their nationality as Polish - bringing their total number to 2,853,318 - a significant, albeit not to be overestimated, change in their attitude towards Polishness when compared to earlier periods.3' Another

National Census of December 1931, whose data are considered more reliable than the ones gathered a decade earlier,32 indicated population growth of over

4 million. The total number of inhabitants increased to 31.9 million, of which the Ukrainian population reached five million and the Jews over three million.

The number of Germans fell to about 740,000, i.e. 2.3 per cent of the whole. By the end of the interwar period it is estimated that Poland's population reached

35.1 million of which in 1939 the Jews constituted 3,474,000, about 10 per cent.33 Other minorities increased by similar numbers. All in all, Poland's population included a very significant number of non-Poles, between one-third

Peter D. Stachura, Poland Between the Wars..., op. cit., 61-62; Jan Tomicki, op. cit., 118. 32 Jan Tomicki, op. cit., 117-118.. 33 Zbigniew Landau and Jerzy Tomaszewski, The Polish Economy in the Twentieth Century (London: Routledge, 1985) 115.

16 and, according to some, forty per cent.34 This ethnic mosaic was much in place in urban areas: in most cities the Jews constituted between 25 and more than

40 per cent of the population. In Warsaw, for instance, there were in 1921 no less than 310,000 Jews, 33.1 per cent; in Lodz every third inhabitant was Jewish; in the Krak6w region there were in 1935 as many as 254,304 Jews, 28.6 per cent.

The further east one went the larger the percentage of Jews. Some eastern cit­ ies and towns (such as Pinsk) were 90 per cent Jewish. The Byelorussians and

Ukrainians dominated eastern and south-eastern villages.35 On the other hand, many Poles remained abroad: 'Over two million Poles were left outside the boundaries of the new state [most of them in the newly-established Soviet Re­ public].'36

Marian M. Drozdowski, "The National Minorities in Poland in 1918-1939" in: Acta Polonioe Historica, No. 22 (1970) 226-267. Drozdowski gives the number of Poland's pre-1945 Ukrainian population as close to seven million. His findings have been questioned by some contemporary historians such as Peter D. Stachura, yet it is beyond doubt that the Ukrainians were the largest ethnic minority of the Second Republic. 35 Peter D. Stachura, Poland Between the Wars..., op. cit., 62. See also: Julian K. Janczak, "The National Structure of the Population in todz in the Years 1820-1939" m: Polin, No. 6 (1991) 25; Wieslaw Pus, "The Development of the City ofL6dz (1820-1939)" in: Polin, No. 6 (1991) 16; Ed­ ward D. Wynot, Warsaw Between the World Wars. Profile of a Capital City in a Developing Land 1918-1939 (Boulder: East European Monographs, 1983) 106 ff; Jerzy Tomaszewski, Ojczyzna me tylko Polakow. Mniejszosci narodowe w Polsca w latach 1918-1939 [Motherland of Not Just Poles. Ethnic Minorities in Poland in the Years 1918-1939] (Warszawa: Mlodziezowa Agencja Wydawnicza, 1985). 3 Adam Zamoyski, op. cit., 338. Jerzy Tomaszewski and Zbigniew Landau provide staggering figures indicating the size of the Polish minority in the (former) Soviet Union, and ranging from almost 800 thousand (1926) to 630 thousand (1939), the decrease explained by both ruth­ less extermination and statistical manipulation by the Soviet authorities (similar manipulations were exercised in regards to the "Soviet" Ukraine). They estimate, quoting the Russian author Nikolai Ivanov, that in 1926 the real number of Poles within the Soviet borders was closer to 1.2 million. See: Jerzy Tomaszewski and Zbigniew Landau, Polska w Europie i swiecie 1918-1939 [Poland in Europe and the World 1918-1939] (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo TRIO, 2005) 85. They are, however, reluctant to accept fully Mr. Ivanov's findings. It may not be without meaning to say that the 2005 edition of their book is a "revised" edition of the work published before 1989, a mainstay of Communist-era socio-political scholarship. Yet their work, its shortcomings

17 [I.9] Scholars generally agree that in terms of economy the Second Republic belonged to the group of the lesser developed, or even underdeveloped, Euro­ pean countries of the period. Peasants constituted the majority of the popula­ tion: in 1921, for instance, 76 per cent of Poland's inhabitants lived in villages,37 and ca. 65 per cent of the rural population lived off the soil (the other ca. 11 per cent performing and/or providing administrative, educational and economic services: policemen, teachers, craftsmen, tradespeople, seasonal workers etc.).38

Among those, the owners of small or very small farmsteads, often existing and working on the threshold of survival, especially in the Eastern Lands - Byelo­ russia and Ukraine - were a dominant force. As Tomaszewski and Landau duly tell, with a touch of, perhaps unintended, black humour, from that standpoint the pre-1939 Poland must be considered one of Europe's (and the world's) poorer countries, although it was in better shape than some countries in Eu-

notwithstanding, still impresses with its scope and, more often than not, attention to scholarly detail. Jan Tomicki, op. cit, n8, speaks of about three million Poles living abroad at that time. 37 The available sources differ slightly in their estimates, but it is acknowledged that if in 1921 Poland's urban population constituted about 24 percent of the whole, then by 1931 that number had risen to 27 percent, and by 1938 to about 30 percent. Janusz Zarnowski, Spofeczenstwo Drugiej Rzeczypospolitej igi8-ig^g [The Society of the Second Republic 1918-1939] (Warszawa: Paristwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1973) 23. However, the steady development of larger agglomerations must be kept in mind. If in 1921 Poland had 13 big cities ("big" by the standards of contemporary sociology; a city was con­ sidered "big" when its population was 50 thousand and above), then in 1931 there were already 22 such cities, including one city whose population exceeded 1 million (Warszawa), 10 cities with 100 thousand inhabitants each, and three cities whose population was above 75 thousand. See: Henryk Tannenbaum, "Sila atrakcyjna skupieh wielkomiejskich w Polsce w latach 1921- 1931" [The Attractive Force of Agglomerations in Poland in the Years 1921-1931] in: Przeglqd Socjologiczny [Sociology Review], 1936, Vol. IV, Tome 1-2, 130-150; Stanislaw Rychliriski, "Na marginesie sprawy wf dr6wek do miast" [Notes on the Issue of Urban Migrations] in: Samorzqd Terytorialny [Territorial Self-government], 1935, Vol. 1/2, 41-60.

18 rope (such as Albania and several other Balkan states) and colonial territories which belonged to the great powers.39 Very little to cherish, definitely.

Because of its inherent weaknesses, stemming from political and economic divisions which occurred, and gradually deepened, during the Partitions (1772-

1918), as well as from extensive devastation during the Great War (exceptionally severe in the Russian partition),40 Polish industry also suffered much, above all in times of the Great Depression, which in Poland ended two years later than elsewhere, in 1935. However, it has to be remembered that after 1918 Poland lost, almost irrevocably, the traditional big markets in Germany and Russia, neither state willing to strengthen the new state by strengthening its economy through imports.41 In the former Austrian partition the circumstances were different, for Austrian Galicia belonged to the poorest regions of the K.u.K. monarchy and played only a small part in the Empire's economy. Its back­ wardness prevailed throughout the 1918-1939 period (with the exception of the oil industry). These were, again, the poorest voivodeships of the Second Polish

Republic [voivodeships (in Polish: wojewodztwa; singular: wojewodztwo) are large administrative territorial units in historic and modern Poland and, in the past, several other countries, including Lithuania and Serbia]. At the time of

Poland's reunification, the successive governments had to deal with barely credible difficulties of overcoming structural—administrative, material, social

39 Jerzy Tomaszewski and Zbigniew Landau, Polska w Europie i swiecie igi8-ig^g, op. cit., 41. 40 Tomicki, op. cit., 121. 41 Ibidem, 142.

*9 and economic—differences within the state, and carried out reforms akin to surgery performed without any anaesthetic. That in the end, towards the late

1930s, this therapy brought about a degree of stability and progress, will forever remain a testament to perseverance of all the parties, as well as the economic and social forces, involved in the process.

Despite that, when considering the standard data pertaining to industrial growth, Poland still placed well behind many European and world economies.

Between 1928 and 1938, the decade first marked by economic boom, then by recession, and then by another revival, the index of Poland's industrial growth was estimated at 6 to 19 per cent, whereas many other countries enjoyed much faster growth: in Latvia 75 per cent, in Greece 65 per cent, in Finland 56 per cent, in Estonia 46 per cent, in Rumania 33 per cent, in Norway 29 per cent, and in Hungary 27 per cent...42 In the years 1918-1935, when compared to other

European and world economies, in Poland the overall tendency was towards gradual impoverishment of the nation.43 One of the main reasons for this was a very weak connection between industry and agriculture. In crudest terms, most peasants could not afford to buy heavier agricultural machinery (or any machinery at all), fertilisers and the like. Over the course of time, in some re­ gions, mainly in the east and south-east, they even returned to natural econ­ omy44 and barter of the most basic agricultural goods. The result was a gradual

42 Jerzy Tomaszewski and Zbigniew Landau, Polska w Europie i swiecie igi8-ig^g, op. cit., 145 43 Ibidem, 148. 44 Ibidem, 141.

20 shrinking of the internal market for industrial products.45 This situation began to change for the better around 1936-1939, when a new economic policy was introduced, devised by the talented minister Eugeniusz Kwiatkowski (1888 -

1974) and characterised by high degree of state interventionism. This radical policy was considered necessary because, as Tomaszewski and Landau correctly indicate, foreign capital in Poland avoided investing and centred its goals on revenue (wealth) transfer to its countries of origin (in most cases: France, Italy,

Sweden; to some extent Germany). At the same time, domestic capital was too frail to take any significant part in rebuilding and developing the economy.46

[I.10] An assessment of the Second Republic, though it may never be complete, cannot do without at least a quick glance at the state's policy regarding its lit­ erary culture and educational system (always representative components of any mature, advanced culture seen as a whole), whose quantitative and qualitative boundaries help define the given society. It has to be admitted that in this area, the condition of literacy and its corollaries, i.e. readership and its social structure, production of books and other printing materials available to the public, cultural investments and the like, reflected the specific social structure of the people as well as the society's economic conditions in all their manifesta­ tions.

Ibidem, 140. Ibidem, 128-150.

21 [ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: One aspect is very important here, namely the presence of active ethnic minorities, each of which had eventually developed its own literary culture within the larger framework of the poly-cultural state (not yet multicultural in the modern sense of the word, reflecting coexistence based on mutual toleration instead of aggressive competition and cultural domineer­ ing). These ethnic minorities, particularly the Jews, Ukrainians and Germans, had managed to develop their own individual and regional literary cultures, of­ ten detached from and ignoring the central and local Polish governments' at­ tempts at subjecting them to a Polish cultural (and political!) raison d'etre.]

According do the notable Marxist literary scholar, Stefan Zolkiewski, Polish intelligentsia, obviously the traditional supplier and consumer of cultural goods, was by no means numerous between the World Wars.47 Janusz

Zarnowski estimates that only about 6 per cent of the entire population, in the

1930s under 2 million, belonged to that group (or class) in which the Poles and polonised representatives of Poland's ethnic minorities (such as the polonised

Jewish intelligentsia whose members considered themselves Poles and identi­ fied themselves with Polish culture) formed a 'disproportionally large part' - a result of persistent nationalistic policy.48 Of these less than two million people

47 Stefan Zdlkiewski, "G16wne tendencje rozwoju polskiej kultury literackiej" [Main Tendencies in Development of Polish Literary Culture] in: Jerzy Kadziela, Jerzy Kwiatkowski, Irena Wyczanska (Eds.). Literatura polska w okresie miqdzywojennym [Polish Literature Between the Wars] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1979) 14-15. Janusz Zarnowski, Struktura spoleczna inteligencji w Polsce w latach 1918-1939 [The Social Structure of Polish Intelligentsia in the Years 1918-1939] (Warszawa: Paristwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1964) 169-177. See also: Janusz Zarnowski, Spoieczenstwo Drugiej Rzeczypospolitej 1918-1939, op. cit., 332.

22 only—or 'at least' as Z6lkiewski puts it—one third read books [on a regular basis]: between 700 and 750 thousand.49 The same author calculates approxi­ mately that the sphere of literary culture in Poland before 1939 "embraced" (or, rather, attracted) between 7 and 10 per cent of the adult population, a very un­ impressive figure when compared to the level of literary awareness in the

United Kingdom and other well developed countries of that period.50 For in­ stance, by 1910, in England most citizens regularly read weekly press, by 1914-

1918, daily press, and by 1950, books. The network of bookstores and libraries developed along similar ways: by 1911 almost 63 per cent of the people had ac­ cess to these facilities, and by 1926, over 96 per cent!51 In contrast, in Poland in the late 1920s, a period of relative prosperity before the crash of 1929, and then in the late 1930s, when the economic conditions improved again, the number of people who read newspapers and other periodicals, Andrzej Paczkowski esti­ mates, ranged between 1.5 million (those who read daily press regularly) to 2.9 million (those who read daily press at least once a week). To that select group belonged only 10-13 per cent of the peasant population (owners of the larger and more prosperous farmsteads; active, or radical, peasant youth,52 be it right­ ist or leftist, involved in political or religious activities), and about 74 per cent of the working class population, 44 per cent of whom could but afford to buy a

49 Stefan Zolkiewski, op. cit., 15, 47. 50 Stefan Zblkiewski, op. cit., 14. 51 Raymond Williams, The Long Revolution (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961) 166-171; eadem, Communications (Harmondsworth, England: Penguin, 1968) 26.-30. 52 Stefan Z61kiewski, op. cit., 31-34, 48

23 newspaper once or twice a week (here again political organisations of the Left contributed to facilitating distribution of the printed word).33 Despite the 30 per cent increase in numbers between 1932 and 1939, public libraries (in 1932 there were 8526 of them, 6289 targeting Polish readers, the remaining 2237 geared towards the literary needs of ethnic minorities) only served about 600 thousand readers altogether.54 Also, since Polish language-based publications such as newspapers and specialised periodicals dominated the market, in cer­ tain areas such as the Polesie (in Belarusian: Fla^ecbce), Woryri (in Ukrainian:

BojiHHb) and Stanislawow55 voivodeships, where in some rural areas less than

2.5 per cent of the residents spoke Polish, major sectors of the populace did not have access to any printed media, notwithstanding the inhabitants' extremely low level of education, extreme poverty and, last but not least, their customary extreme distrust of Polish intentions.56

However, when dealing with the issue of Poland's literary culture during the interwar period, one ought to keep in mind that right upon her rebirth, the young republic inherited the disease which had already crippled big sectors of the society during the partitions: illiteracy. On average, in the former Austrian

53 Andrzej Paczkowski, Prasa Drugiej Rzeczypospolitej [Press in the Second Republic] (Warszawa: Instytut Badan Literackich Polskiej Akademii Nauk, 1971) 22-27; eadem, Prasa pol- ska 1918 - 1939 [Polish Press 1918-1939] (Warszawa: Paristwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1980) 20- 33; Stefan Zdlkiewski, op. cit., 33. 54 Stefan Zblkiewski, Kultura literacka (1918-1932) [Literary Culture (1918-1932)] (Wroclaw: Os- solineum, 1973) 343-344, 403-406. 55 The city of Stanislawow is presently called Ivano-Frankivsk (lBaHO-paHKiBCbic). The ethnic structure of the Stanislawow voivodeship was as follows: Ukrainians 68 percent, Poles 23 per­ cent, Jews 7 percent, Germans, Armenians and others 2 percent. 5 Andrzej Paczkowski, Prasa polska 1918 -1939, op. cit., 20.

24 partition of Galicia, 40 per cent of the population were illiterate; in the former

Russian partition, 55 per cent; and, for obvious reasons, in the former German partition and Silesia, only 2 per cent. In some regions such as Polesie, the rate of illiteracy reached almost 80 per cent! No wonder the new state set schooling as one of top priorities. It must be unequivocally said that, in spite of serious obstacles, primarily economic and organisational in nature, this energetic pol­ icy brought about much success and laid the foundations for further positive developments, as already by the 1925/26 school year, 86 per cent of children attended (primary) schools, and in the school year 1928/29, 96.4 per cent.57 If in the area of secondary education certain regressive trends were visible—in

1926/27 there were 796 secondary schools, of which 107 served the minorities, in the early 1930s the number of such schools shrank to 748 (the student body decreased as well)58—then the postsecondary institutions grew in numbers: in

1918 there were 18 such academic institutions, both state- (13) and privately owned (5), and in 1938/39 already 28, serving 50 thousand students.59 By any stretch of the imagination these were not contemptible achievements.

[I.11] Unfortunately, these achievements were, from the point of view of impar-

Stefan Z61kiewski, op. cit., 27-29. Unfortunately, among the older groups of the society the average illiteracy ratio of 20 percent persisted until the end of the Second Republic. Ibidem. Ibidem, 28. See also: Anna Szczepan-Wojnarska: "Kultura, nauka, oswiata" [Culture, Science, Education) in: Anna Skoczek (Ed.), Historia literatury polskiej. Dwudziestolecie miqdzywojenne [The History of Polish Literature. The Interwar Period], Vol. VIII (Bochnia, Krak6w, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo SMS, 2006) 45 ff. 59 Anna Szczepan-Wojnarska, op. cit., 50-51. These figures do not include religious institutions of higher learning such as seminaries (Roman Catholic, Orthodox, Greek Orthodox, Mariavite) and rabbinical schools. Ibidem, 51.

25 tial historians, belittled by the officially imposed educational policies which targeted Poland's minorities, especially the Jews and the Ukrainians. Through­ out the 1930's, one could witness a stiffening attitude towards students repre­ senting non-ethnic citizens of the Second Republic (here, it is assumed for the sake of the argument that all inhabitants of the pre-World War II Poland were considered her citizens, regardless of their ethnic and cultural origin). This tendency was particularly visible and acutely felt in relation to Jewish univer­ sity students. The Jews, as always energetic and hungry for improvement of their lot within the society, provided a "disproportionately" large percentage of the university student population. Under the influence of the extreme right, the Polish government wavered and finally gave in. The infamous numerus clausus—limiting the number of Jewish university students in accordance with the demographic proportions within the population (and there were sugges­ tions of introducing numerus nullus, doing away with the Jews altogether!)— will forever remain a stain on the otherwise honest and impressive efforts of the Polish educational administration to provide for the well-being of the post- secondary schooling system in the Second Republic. It goes without saying that in a truly suicidal move, several large Polish professional organisations, doctors, lawyers, architects, expelled the Jews from their ranks.

Still, the Jews contributed incalculably to the development of Polish culture (in its Polish language-based Judeo-Polish variety), such as those, ran­ domly chosen, active in the 20th Century alone (which witnessed extraordinary

26 qualitative and quantitative growth of the Polish-Jewish cross-cultural contri­ bution and exchange), and whose careers often throve during the Second

Polish Republic: critics, poets and writers (writing in Polish, not Yiddish or

Hebrew), coming largely from the assimilated Jewish families, Jan Brzechwa60

(1898 - 1966), Bruno Jasienski61 (1901 - 1938), Boleslaw Lesmian62 (1877 - 1937, cousin of Jan Brzechwa), the abovementioned Artur Sandauer (1913 - 1989, married to Erna Rosenstein, see below), Bruno Schulz (1892 - 1942), Antoni

Slonimski (1895 - 1976), Anatol Stern (1899 -1968), Julian Tuwim (1894 - 1953),

Aleksander Wat63 (1900 - 1967), Adam Wazyk64 (1905 - 1982, brother of Leon

Trystan, see below), and Jozef Wittlin (1896 - 1976); film and theatre directors

Jozef Lejtes65 (1901 - 1983), Arnold Szyfman (1882 - 1967), and Leon Trystan66

(1899 - 1941); musicians Jozef Koffler (composer, 1896 - 1943/44?), Leopold

Munzer (pianist, ca. 1900 -1944?), and Aleksander Tansman (composer, 1897 -

1986); painters Erna Rosenstein (1913 - 2004), Zygmunt Menkes (1896 - 1986), and Jonasz Stern (1904 -1988).

Sadly, the Ukrainian and Byelorussian populations were often treated with even more contempt than the Jews, in the end leading to the absolutely un-

0 Born Jan Wiktor Lesman. Born Wiktor Zysman. 2 Born Boleslaw Lesman. 3 Born Aleksander Chwat. 4 Born Adam Wagman. 5 Often referred to as Poland's most accomplished director before World War II. After the war, he emigrated to Israel and then to the US where he worked in the TV medium. Died in Los Angeles. Born Chaim Lejb Wagman.

27 necessary estrangement and just resentments which came to the fore in the hour of need, World War II.67

[I.12] Norman Davies, not to mention several other influential historians, has few encouraging words about the Second Polish Republic, finishing his descrip­ tion and analysis of it in one telling sentence: 'The Second Republic was indeed destined for destruction.'68 This somewhat gullible view has been successfully challenged by those historians who do not perceive past history as implicating the inevitable. Says the UK-based Polish scholar, Peter Stachura:

Davies' brilliant if sometimes provocative works illuminate important aspects of [the pre-1939 Poland's] development, though his generally pessimistic assessment of the Second Republic is disappointing... What is invariably missing from these and other accounts is sufficient recog­ nition of the Second Republic's achievements, which arguably extended well beyond the cultural and educational spheres. In addition to the valiant struggle to secure its borders and the momentous victory over the Soviet Bolsheviks in 1920, the promotion of integration and national integration, at least among the ethnic Poles, the creation of a progressive welfare system, the emphasis placed on family values and civility, the respect fostered for religion and religious institutions, and the relatively low incidence of serious crime are only a few of the usu­ ally unacknowledged or underestimated factors which went into the making of the fabric of and integrity of Polish society and the state in these years. It is easy enough to be critical of Poland's transparent fail­ ings, but this has surely to be counterbalanced with reference to its many undeniable successes. With Warsaw taking its place as a leading European capital city, boasting a restored Royal Castle as a unifying pa­ triotic symbol, the country often exuded a new mood of confidence and vitality, wrapped in an inimitable Polish sense of style. In the space of a single generation Poland overcame the disaster of partition and many of her most challenging domestic and external problems to re-emerge

67 Polish scholarship on Ukrainian (or Byelorussian) cultural contribution during the Second Republic amounts practically to nothing. There exist extremely few sources which would allow for making a more substantial generalisation. Norman Davies, op. cit., Vol. II, 434. 28 as an important, justifiably proud nation at the heart of European af­ fairs. 9

No matter what any scholar of any orientation and preoccupied with Po­ land's history between 1918 and 1939 may say, the Second Republic should be looked at as a colourful, fascinating polity, an old-fashioned work of art (in

Burckhardt's terminology),70 an intriguing mosaic, a state restored to life by very highly intelligent, educated and, more importantly, sober, ruthless, artful and idealistic (typical Polish concoction), women and men who, to put it in the simplest terms, stepped down from pages written by Polish Renaissance think­ ers, Romantics and Positivists to satisfy their own youthful yearnings - and their own mature vanities. No other state can really claim to be brought back from the dead in such a complex, impossible, yet efficient, way. That their vi­ sion failed in the end was not due to their obvious shortcomings (what political entity has not experienced these; imperial Rome, Byzantium and Soviet Russia being the most manifest examples?), but to accidentally arrived-at power con­ figurations, whose eventual impact has proven equally illusory after less than fifty years (1945 -1989).71

Peter Stachura, Poland Between the Wars..., op. cit., 7. 70 Jacob Burckhardt, The Renaissance in Italy. Authorized translation by S. G. C. Middlemore (Old Saybrook: Konecky & Konecky, n.d. [2003]). 71 The emergence of the independent Ukraine and, to a lesser extent, Byelorussia prove the point.

29 II. Tadeusz Peiper: Biographical and Intellectual Contexts

We are living it out in an epoch which cannot be compared to any other in the his­ tory of Poland; nothing in our annals can be weighted against overcoming the Par­ titions; once only the feet of time pass by such a moment... We are living it out in an epoch which cannot be compared to any other. And it is us, us who will an­ swer for it in the future... To history the face of our time will be the face we have given it. Tadeusz Peiper

My first volume... Bah! My first volume of poetry never saw the light of day - and never will. Tadeusz Peiper

[H.i] Tadeusz Peiper was born in the township of Podgorze near Krakow (Cra­ cow) on 3 May 1891. The house, where he was born and lived until 1906, situ­ ated by the town's main square (or, rather, triangular) market place, laid out back in the 18th Century - this house still stands. Named after the high-relief on its corner pediment, the house is known as "Pod Jeleniami" [Under the

Stags]. In those days Podgorze, whose population passed over fifteen thousand at the turn of the 20th Century, was a separate municipality, which would not

be incorporated into the greater Krakow until 1915. Presently, it is one of

Krakow's quieter and more picturesque suburbs, with the neo-Gothic Church

of St. Joseph, erected between 1905 and 1909, dominating the skyline. During

the Second World War, it was in Podgorze where the co-called Krakow Ghetto

(also known as the Podgorze Ghetto) was in operation between 1941 and 1943-3

Tadeusz Peiper, Chapter III, „Nowe tworzenie" [New Ways of Writing] in: Tedy. Nowe usta [This Way. The New Lips] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1972) 364. [All translations by P. G-M unless indicated otherwise.] "Przedmowa" [Foreword] to Poematy [Poems], 1935. Quoted in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), Poematy i utwory teatralne [Poems and Theatrical Works] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1979) 25. 3 Roman Polariski, Roman by Polanski (New York: William Morrow & Co., 1984).

30 The town had a sizeable Jewish population (though far smaller than the tradi­ tionally Jewish district of Kazimierz, the famous Oppidum Judceorum, whence most of the Krakow Jews were relocated to the Podgorze Ghetto).4 Movie audi­ ences around the world probably do not realise how familiar they may be with

Podgorze - substantial segments of Steven Spielberg's 1993 Academy Award- winning Holocaust motion picture Schindler's List were filmed there. Today, apart from a fragment of the wall, which during the Second World War sepa­ rated the Ghetto from the rest of the town, and a commemorative tablet, very little remains of that inexpressible period. The Nazis did not leave a stone un­ turned, they did not even spare the Jewish cemeteries, using shattered grave­ stones, many of superb artistic quality and value, to lay roadbeds, carefully examining the exposed skulls for traces of gold and silver...5 The solitary Jewish gravestone left intact is a testament to these crimes. Also, the Oskar Schindler factory at the Lipowa [Linden] street, No. 4, has remained and attracts con­ siderable attention.

His parents gave the future poet the names Jan Tadeusz. He never used the former except for two of his preferred noms de plume, Jan Alden and Jan

Badyhski.6 According to contemporary custom, at their baptism many children were given their first names after those of the most popular saints, such as

4 Before 1939 the Jews constituted no less than 25 percent of Krakow's population. 5 Aleksander Bieberstein, Zagtada Zydow w Krakowie [The Holocaust in Krak6w] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1986); Katarzyna Zimmerer, Zamordowany Swiat. Losy Zydow w Krakowie ig^g-ig4^ [The Murdered World. The Fate of the Jews in Krakow 1939-1945] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 2004). The third and fourth were, respectively, Marian Bielski and Wojciech Dugiel.

3i Maria, Magdalena, Stanislawa or Stanislaw (Poland's patron saint), Jan (after St.

John the Baptist) and so on. However, quite frequently those official names were not the ones by which their bearers were addressed - very often people preferred to use their second or even third given names on an everyday basis.

And hence Peiper's preference for his second given name. That name was be­ stowed upon him in honour of Tadeusz Kosciuszko, the Supreme Commander of the 1794 anti-Russian insurrection, referred to by the Polish historiography as the Kosciuszko Insurrection. Considering the date of the Peiper child's birth, it was a fitting name to choose. Apparently, Peiper later savoured telling his interlocutors that on that day church bells rang throughout the city, its citizens celebrating the hundredth anniversary of the seminal May 3 Constitution.7

The Peipers were an old, patriotic, middle-class Jewish family of upwardly mobile status, settled in Poland for generations. Soon after the time Tadeusz was born, they converted to Roman Catholicism. The decision had practicality written all over it, the family's traditional patriotic stance notwithstanding.

Some Jews were converting at the time, willing to break with the ballast of Jew­ ish Orthodoxy and to find more room to manoeuvre within the dynamically developing Polish capitalist society. It cannot be denied, of course, that often­ times conversions were inspired by fears of anti-Semitism, especially pro­ nounced in the Russian Partition, where in the later part of the 19th Century

See: Stanislaw Jaworski, U podstaw awangardy. Tadeusz Peiper - pisarz i teoretyk [At the Foundations of the Avant-garde. Tadeusz Peiper - Writer and Theoretician] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1980) 9 ff.

32 and especially after the Revolution of 1905, the arrival of the predominantly

Russian-speaking Jews escaping the pogroms in Russia proper resulted in a dramatic increase of tension between the Polish and Jewish sectors of the population (the new arrivals totally immune to the values established by the age-long tradition of Polish-Jewish relations within the once independent Res- publica). Many others, Roza (Rosa) Luksemburg (1871 - 1919) being one of the most notable examples, abandoned the faith of their ancestors to follow the radical left-wing orientation, very popular among the Jews attracted by its supranational character. According to Norman Davies:

The disturbances [in Russia]... aggravated the problems of Polish Jewry in a very specific manner... As a result of the pogroms, considerable numbers of Jews from the Russian areas of the Pale sought refuge in the Polish gubernias, or in Galicia. The newcomers... differed from the na­ tive Jews in two important respects. In the first place, embittered by their humiliating experiences, they contained an unusually large ele­ ment of political militants. In the second place, the educated people among them were largely Russian-speaking, and as such essentially in­ different to Polish interests. Their arrival proved unsettling in the ex­ treme, and was resented no less by the leaders of Orthodox Polish Jewry than by the Polish Catholics. Their influx seriously damaged the Polish Orientation, hindered the process of assimilation into Polish cul­ ture, and accelerated a wide variety of radical political programmes... [M]any stayed behind to take conspicuous part in the socialist, com­ munist, and Zionist movements. In Polish eyes, these 'alien Jews' were largely responsible for disrupting the supposed harmony of earlier Polish-Jewish relations. Unwittingly, they certainly did much to launch the popular stereotype of the 'zydo-komuna [Communist Jewry], asso­ ciating Marxism and Communism with Russian Jewish intellectuals, o

which was destined to enjoy a long currency in Poland.

Artur Sandauer (1913 - 1989), a Jew and one of the most outstanding Polish lit­ erary critics, who habitually analysed literary phenomena from within the lar-

Davies, God's Playground. A History of Poland, op. cit., Vol. II, 251-252.

33 ger context of social processes (the lesson of Marxism was an important one to him, albeit not the only one), says that in Poland at the turn of the 20th Cen­ tury, the Jews found themselves in a peculiar position, neither an entirely alien nation, nor a class which would enjoy equal rights. As such, suspended so to speak in the no-man's-land wherein overlap the semiotic fields delineated (sig­ nified) by signs such as "nation," "ethnic minority," "class," they epitomised the dangerous and naturally feared otherness and were on a bad footing with all: with the peasants who looked at them as greedy publicans; with the proletariat who perceived them as insatiable factory owners and grafters; with the land­ owners who saw them as sneaky and avaricious suppliers (of goods necessary to sustain agricultural production); and, most importantly, with the developing native bourgeoisie, who encountered them already well entrenched, often dominant, in the cities.9 It is to that multilayered and multifaceted social pressure, Sandauer suggests, that many Jews responded either 1) by becoming radicalised and joining the Zionist or socialist movements, often going abroad, or 2) by opting for assimilation.10 'A Jew had two ways to get out of the ghetto: the more difficult one, i.e. to emigrate; and the easier one, i.e. to assimilate.

When I say "easier" I have in mind the situation before the First World War, when even the nationalists were looking for allies to support the Polish cause.

Artur Sandauer, O sytuacji pisarza polskiego pochodzenia zydowskiego w XX wieku. (Rzecz, ktorq nieja powinienem byl napisac...) [On the Situation of a Polish Writer of Jewish Descent in the 20th-century. (The Thing Not I Should Have Written...)] (Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1982) 17. Ibidem, 18-21. See also: Chaim Loew, Smok w siowiczym gniezdzie [The Dragon in the Night­ ingale's Nest] (Warszawa, 1934); eadem, "Zydzi w poezji Odrodzonej Polski" [Jews in Poetry of Poland Reborn] in: Miesiqcznik Zydowski, 1934, Vol. I, No. 1.

34 When Poland gained independence, the recent allies became expendable, nay!, they became dangerous as competitors.'11 On the other hand, one can observe mechanisms of rejection pulling in the opposite direction, Polish anti-Semitism coming into collision with Jewish anti-Polonism. Quoting the official statistics based on the Russian census of 1897, G. E. Slocombe demonstrates that very few Jews actually identified themselves as belonging to the Polish nation. For instance, in the Russian Partition the census, based on religion and declared national identity, listed 9,001,349 Roman Catholics considering themselves as

Polish adherents. This group also included 73,033 Mariavites, 63,000 Protes­ tants (out of a total number of 634,649), and only 50,000 Jews (out of a total number of 1,747,655), i.e. less than 3 percent.12 Peter Stachura, albeit speaking of the post-1918 Poland, elucidates the Sandauer and Slocombe contrasting points further:

The approximately 3,500.000 Jews by the mid-i93os, representing just over 10 per cent of the total population of Poland, were a richly hetero­ geneous community in religious, social, economic, political and ideo­ logical respects. There were Orthodox and secular Jews, upper-class and proletarian Jews, wealthy and poor Jews, and conservative and radical Jews, with a plethora of sub-strata in all these broad categories. Their political parties ranged from the Agudath Yisroel, which was con­ servative, Orthodox and patriotically supportive of Poland, to the vari­ ous Zionists, and then to the Marxist-inclined Bund. Jewish backing for Communism was also not unimportant. Collectively, however, the Jews shared several features. First, they were overwhelmingly unassimilated: at most only about 8 per cent spoke and regarded themselves as 'Polish', while the rest kept themselves apart from Polish society as much as possible and spoke Yiddish or, much less often, Hebrew. Second, they were urban-

11 Ibidem, 21. 12 G. E. Slocombe, Poland (London: T. C. & E. C. Jack, Limited; New York: Frederick A. Stokes Co., 1916) 303.

35 based, with major cities such as Warsaw, Krak6w, L6dz, Wilno and Lwow having between 25 and 40 per cent of their inhabitants Jewish, while in small towns (Shtetlekh), especially those in the Eastern Prov­ inces, the percentage could be as high as 90. Third, their economic ac­ tivity was concentrated in the small artisan trades, finance, banking and insurance, and in some liberal professions, notably medicine, pub­ lishing and the law. Fourth, they enjoyed, as an overall average, a higher per capita income and thus paid proportionately more taxes then ethnic Poles. Finally, and perhaps most important of all, they had opposed through a well-organised lobby at the Paris Peace Conference in 1919 the re-creation of an independent Polish state... A large majority of the Jews who subsequently and unwillingly found themselves in the Polish State after 1919 maintained a hostile or at best a negligent, apathetic attitude thereafter.13

[H.2] Regardless of these pertinent (chronic) conflicts, which were developing along ethnic, social, cultural, religious, political and ideological lines, relatively speaking many Jews who lived in Poland still elected to follow the course of as­ similation. They considered Poland to be their native land and were both strongly attached to it and attracted by its social fabric's numerous positives.

And again, it was much easier to live without too pronounced communal and cultural pressures. As already observed, some Jewish families, mainly from the upper and middle classes, chose the second option given in Sandauer's narra­ tive. The Peipers were one such family.

[Interestingly, Peiper was not destined to suffer for his Jewishness as much as many other Jewish-Polish artists did during the Second Republic. Most likely, in the course of time and progress of his career he did not turn out to be as "dangerous" and "destructive" as many of his more famous colleagues. This,

13 Peter Stachura, Poland, igi8-ig4^. An interpretive and Documentary history of the Second Republic (London and New York: Routledge, 2004), op. cit., 84-85. 36 of course, is a paradox as, generally, the avant-garde had been deemed destruc­ tive and negatively influential. Yet Peiper's family history and reputation, commitment to Polish values and, last but not least, his past involvement with several Polish irredentist organisations may have justified his Polishness and spared him the rage of the aggressive nationalists, whose campaign of hate culminated on 16 December 1922 in the cold-blooded killing of Gabriel Na- rutowicz, Poland's first democratically elected President who happened to be of

Jewish descent. Later on, in 1923, Peiper was to show his remarkable impar­ tiality and objectivity by reviewing positively a book written by Narutowicz's murderer, the fanatical right winger and extremely chauvinistic nationalist

Eligiusz Niewiadomski (b. 1869, executed 31 January 1923) who, ironically maybe, was a noted artist, theorist and reformer of cultural life before the war.

(The book was, in fact, important.)14 Several nationalistic attacks based on his ethnicity were directed at Peiper, but certainly not reaching the same heated frenzy as was the case of, say, the Skamandrite poets Julian Tuwim or Antoni

Slonimski who, luckily for them, were nonetheless protected by many high- ranking officials in the government - and their friends. It is a well known fact that in 1921, Tuwim and Slonimski's fellow Skamandrite, Jaroslaw Iwaszkiewicz, slapped the critic Stanislaw Pierikowski in the face after the latter's xenophobic and particularly distasteful attack on the Jewish members of the group. Public

Tadeusz Peiper, „Eligiusz Niewiadomski: „Wiedza o sztuce"" [Eligiusz Niewiadomski: Intro­ duction to Art]. The review was published in the June 1923 issue of Zwrotnica. Reprinted in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), O wszystkim i jeszcze o czyms [Of Everything and More] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1974) 151.

37 opinion criticised the form of, yet unanimously justified and approved the rea­ sons for, Jaroslaw's Iwaszkiewicz's reaction.]15

Tadeusz's father, Dr Abraham Marek Peiper,16 was a popular, well-liked man and successful counsellor-at-law, who also sat on the Podgorze Town

Council, at one point in the capacity of Deputy Mayor. Born in 1858, he died of pulmonary tuberculosis (then known as consumption) in 1903, when the little

Tadeusz was barely ten. His mother, Maria Elzbieta,17 nee Sara Eisen (i° voto

Tarliriska, 20 voto Peiper, 30 voto Schulz), born in 1859, was a formidable wo­

man. She outlived three husbands (divorces were not as common, and not as

easy to obtain, as they are today), of whom Dr Marek Peiper was the second,

(the third a Czech officer in the Austro-Hungarian army, Otto Schulz). At

Elzbieta's death in 1927, aged 68, the family discovered a packet of love letters,

sent to her recently by another suitor, passionately in love.'8 It was she who,

through shrewd investments in real estate as well as clever and lucky real estate

market speculations, laid the foundations for the family's modest affluence.

15 Grzegorz Sobaszek and Maciej Tramer, "Krytyk napadl na pisarza" [Critic Attacked a Writer] in Dziennik No. 165, 30 October 2006. He never used his first given name and was always known as Marek. 17 Known as Elzbieta. 18 Some lesser known facts regarding the Peiper family were provided by my ex-spouse, Ms. Kasia Zoledziowski, based in Edmonton, Canada, and her elder sister, Ms. Jagoda Zol^dziowska, based in Warsaw, close relatives of Tadeusz Peiper, both of whom knew him in person (he was their uncle). Other sources include various publications, all of them quoted in the text, namely memoirs of those who knew Peiper during his Krakow days as well as several biographical sources such as: Stanislaw Jaworski, "Nota biograficzna" [Biographical Note] in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), Tqdy. Nowe usta [This Way. The New Lips] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie 1972) 418-423; Irena Maciejewska (Ed.), Poeci dwudziestolecia miqdzywojennego [Poets of the Interwar] (Warszawa: Wiedza Powszechna, 1982) 57-58; Piotr Kuncewicz, Leksykon polskich pisarzy wspotczesnych [The Lexicon of Contemporary Polish Writers], Vol. II N-Z (Warszawa: GRAF-PUNKT, 1995) 96-99.

38 She was particularly successful in purchasing run-down buildings, fixing them up and then selling. In the end, thanks to her energy, the family owned a num­ ber of tenement houses: one in Krakow, which after the Second World War was confiscated by the Communist administration and not returned to the family until 2001 after a costly legal battle; and two in Berlin. Later, in the late 1920's and the early 1930's, Tadeusz Peiper would often visit the German capital to look after family's property and settle some legal disputes related to running it.19 This is when he began to suffer financially, for the Nazi government imposed restrictions on German (Reichsmark) currency-transfers abroad as one way to fight recession - Peiper could no longer receive his rent directly from Germany. It was a stroke of luck that after the Second World War the

Berlin buildings remained in the western portion of the city. Subsequently, the sale of these tenements temporarily helped the family to cope with economic hardships in Communist Poland (unlike its Polish counterpart, the West Ger­ man government did honour pre-war property laws and restitution rights). Fi­ nancially independent though Peiper (barely) was, he was clearly quite familiar with the humbler side of life. Jan Brz^kowski (1903 - 1983) informs that Peiper was often practically destitute—which during the first few years after 1918, and then during the post-1929 Great Depression, exceptionally hard in Poland, was entirely understandable—yet would never ignore a call for help: 'At that time

Tadeusz Klak (Ed.), Materialy do dziejow awangardy [Archival Materials on the History of the Avant-garde] (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, Gdanski: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossoliriskich, Wydawnictwo Polskiej Akademii Nauk, 1975) 86.

39 [when Brzejkowski first met Peiper] he was in dire straits - not always could he find enough in his pocketbook to pay for a most frugal dinner. In spite of that he never hesitated for one moment to help the needy. By the same token, whenever he saw a beggar in the street, he would stop and, sometimes for a long while, ferret in his wallet or pockets for change in order to give such a per­ son whatever he could afford. He always did that, even when he was almost penniless.'20 Jalu Kurek (1904 - 1983), along with Peiper, Brz^kowski and Julian

Przybos (1901 - 1970) one of the four main (founding) members of the Krakow

Avant-garde, confirms: 'The author of The New Lips [Nowe usta] came from a

Krakow family. His brother, Wiktor, was a well known attorney who shook his head in disbelief yet always indulged Tadeusz's ambitions. The latter, a co- owner of an apartment house,21 wasted his substance on literary pursuits, but this is, I think, yet another reason to respect him: instead of drinking, gam­ bling, or living in quiet comfort, the money was spent on a noble passion.'22 It seems that recurring financial setbacks, and legal problems related to these, were a normal state of affairs in Peiper's life. Slightly more than a year before

Jan Brz^kowski, W Krakowie i w Paryzu [In Krakow and Paris] (Warszawa: Paristwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1968) 32. 21 Co-owned with the Tarlihski family, descendants of Elzbieta Peiper's first husband. What share of the income Tadeusz Peiper received is not fully known. Probably around 33 percent, most likely much less, as he lived there in a very small bachelor apartment. Stanislaw Jaworski says ("Nota biograficzna," op. cit., 419) that after Peiper's mother's death, the entire building was inherited by the Tarliriskis and that Peiper still kept his small place, free of rent. This statement needs clarification. When the building was finally returned to the Elzbieta Peiper's descendants (all in all several different families were involved) and then sold by them, the share of the 2002 sale which went to her second husband's, Marek Peiper's, descendants was 22 percent. 22 Jalu Kurek, Moj Krakow [My Cracow] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1978) 122.

40 the outbreak of the Second World War, in an interview published on 19 June

1938 in Krakowski Kurier Wieczorny [The Krakow Evening Courier], No. 163, and then reprinted on the morning of 20 June in Krakowski Kurier Poranny

[The Krakow Morning Courier],23 No. 164, when asked about his current pre­ occupations—and the question's implied reference was to the interviewee's lit­ erary work—Peiper dramatically began with a complaint ('I was brought to bay') about his unreliable and careless lawyer who created a mess while con­ ducting Peiper's inheritance business. Further on in the same interview, he again brooded over not being able to devote his time entirely to literature be­ cause of the ongoing legal dispute. Also, he pointed out how little money there was in literary work: 'What I earned through my books was never enough to sustain me even on the most modest level.'24

Tadeusz had three siblings. The abovementioned elder brother, Wiktor

Peiper (1885-1930, died of the same disease as his father), who as an attorney continued the family tradition; and sister Maria Ludwika Wanda Peiper (d.

1979),23 were Elzbieta and Marek's children — whereas the eldest brother, Dr

Zygmunt Tarlinski (1880 - 1942), in his mature years on the faculty of the City

The Krakowski Kurier Wieczorny and Krakowski Kurier Poranny were two editions of the same high-circulation newspaper. 24 Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), O wszystkim i jeszcze o czyms, op. cit., 483-484, 603. Known as Wanda Dzius. On 20 October 1912, she married Ludwik Dzius (1888-1960), who later gained high reputation as a doctor. Wanda, another striking Peiper woman who in her forties could draw to distraction men half her age, was adamant about hiding her actual date of birth. The one given by Stanislaw Jaworski in Tedy, Nowe usta on page 430 as 1893 is undoubtedly correct yet, in accordance with her wish, on Wanda's tombstone only the date of her death is given.

4i Commerce School [Miejska Szkola Handlowa], was born during Elzbieta's first marriage to a Polish engineer.

[II.3] Tadeusz Peiper spent the years between 1901 and 1906 at the gymnasium in his hometown, where he belonged to the most accomplished and highly awarded students, receiving maximum grades in the majority of subjects. Then he transferred to the Jan III Sobieski Gymnasium in Krakow, from which he graduated in 1909, again with excellent grades. Shortly thereafter, also in 1909, he registered to attend the Jagiellonian University. At first he studied philoso­ phy, and then, as of 1911, law. This last move may have been forced upon Peiper by his family, noted for many lawyers, including Dr Leon Peiper, another coun- sellor-at-law then active in the city of Przemysl, who was Tadeusz's legal guard­ ian after Dr. Marek Peiper's death. Tadeusz never received the degree, which may confirm his lukewarm response to these attempts. It is to be noted and recorded that in 1911 he attended lectures at the University of Berlin and, dur­ ing a holiday break, briefly travelled to Denmark, where he visited the museum of natural history, about which he made insightful comments.26

Polish historiographers who are concerned with the origins of Peiper's thought almost unanimously agree that his novel, Ma lat 22 [He is Twenty- two], most likely includes a great deal of autobiographical motifs and informa­ tion. Stanislaw Jaworski does not hesitate to say confidently that 'Peiper de-

Tadeusz Peiper, T$dy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 42.

42 scribed his years at school and university in the novel Ma lat 22, based on auto­ biographical motifs.'27 (However, Jaworski retracts later, pointing out to the necessity of being careful about identifying Peiper with the hero of his novel.)

If this holds true, then the young Peiper seems to have been involved in clan­ destine and semi-legal patriotic and left-wing organisations ("cells"), whose programmes promoted independence and social reform. It is known, Jaworski continues, that while at the gymnasium, Peiper was a member of a Marxist circle; and that he was familiar with the anarcho-syndicalist ideas (tinged with mysticism) of the religious reformer Augustyn Wroblewski (1866 - ca. 1913), which focussed on renewal of morals.28 These early experiences had not been forgotten and left a major impression on Peiper's future writings. Logically, even more important were Peiper's experiences at the university where he briefly joined the paramilitary and patriotic Riflemen's Association "Rifleman"

[Zwi^zek Strzelecki "Strzelec"],29 probably between December 1912 and April

1913.30

In the meantime, his relationship with his mother, Elzbieta, deteriorated more than ever after her third marriage. Peiper could not bear the presence of his new step-father and often gave vent to his frustrations. The conflict dragged on and, insofar as it can be ascertained, Peiper's departure for Paris in

27 Stanislaw Jaworski, Upodstaw awangardy..., op. cit., 10. Ibidem. See also: Ignacy Zenon Siemion, „Slawa i zniestawienie. O Zyciu i pracach Augustyna Wroblewskiego" [Fame and Infamy. The Life and Work of Augustyn Wr6blewski] in: Analecta 11, No. 1/2 (Warszawa: Instytut Historii Nauki PAN, 2002), 251-297. 29 Cf. Chapter I. 30 Stanislaw Jaworski, "Nota biograficzna" in: Tadeusz Peiper, T%dy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 419.

43 1914 may be seen in this light also. There, he attended lectures by Henri

Bergson (which may have later inspired his writings on comicality, humour and mechanisms of jesting), made contacts with La Societe polonaise litteraire et artistique,31 as well as with individual artists, including Moise [Mojzesz] Kisling

(1891 - 1953), with whom he would later collaborate. The outbreak of the First

World War prevented Peiper from returning to Krakow. As a citizen of the power hostile to France, he was first interned near Bordeaux, and then allowed to move to neutral Spain, where he could receive money from home.32 By 1915, he settled and for the rest of his stay in Spain lived in Madrid. In 1918, which is relatively late—most probably he had to master the language first—he began writing for the Spanish press and, occasionally, working as an editor. While there, he published in El Sol (his debut in print on 24 December), La Lectura,

La Publicidad. He contributed a series of commentaries, notes, articles and es­ says embracing an array of subjects ranging from literature to the most current political events such as Poland's independence, the Polish-Soviet war, the Sile- sian Uprisings, and plebiscites imposed on Poland by the Allies in order to de­ cide the fate of several hotly contested territories. In 1920, he contributed the

Prologue to the abridged edition of a large, crucial fragment of Wladyslaw

31 Towarzystwo Polskie Literacko-Artystyczne, founded in 1910 by the popular writer, Waclaw Gqsiorowski (1869-1939). Preceded by the Koto Polskie Artystyczno-Literackie [Le Cercle artistique et litteraire polonais] (1897-1910), led by the sculptor Cyprian Godebski (1835-1909), and independent of the Towarzystwo Artystow Polskich w Paryzu [La Societe des artistes polonais a Paris], established in 1911 by the sculptor Stanislaw Kazimierz Ostrowski (1879-1947). See: Ewa Bobrowska-Jakubowska, Artysci polscy we Francji w latach i8go-igi8. Wspolnoty i indywidualnosci [Polish Artists in France 1890-1918. Communes and Individuals] (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo DiG, 2004). 32 Stanislaw Jaworski, "Nota biograficzna," op. cit., 420.

44 Reymont's epic novel, Chlopi [The Peasants, 1904-1909], already recognised internationally as a major achievement, even a masterpiece.33 Despite the na­ ture of this somewhat acrobatic linguistic exercise—Carlos Pereyra (1871 -

1942), who translated the book, did not speak Polish and used the French trans­ lation!—when on November 13, 1924 Reymont was awarded the Nobel Prize34 for the novel, Peiper must have felt tremendous satisfaction in having helped the translator;35 all his efforts vindicated by the success of the enterprise.

[Later, Peiper spoke anecdotally yet with gusto about his initial reservations about endorsing a Spanish rendition of the Reymont novel from what he con­ sidered a rather unimaginative, substandard French translation, Marie-Anne de

Bouvet's sixty-page-long abridged version, "La terre et la femme," published in

1911 in the Revue de Paris; another one, Franck-Louis Schoell's two-volume ver­ sion was published in 1919 (his translation of the whole was only released in

1925, the year of Reymont's death); it is a pity Peiper did not have access to that one; no Polish source offers any valid information on these two French transla­ tors] . He changed his mind after having observed a Spanish colleague who ac­ cidentally found, grabbed and read the aforementioned French Revue de Paris

The first translation of Reymont's novel was into Ukrainian, the work of Mykola Pawlyk. Then the Russian translation followed. The German translation which proved instrumental in establishing the novel's fame was by Jan Pawel Kaczkowski (a.k.a. Jean-Paul d'Arderschah). It appeared in 1912 in the Eugene Diederich imprint in Jena. Due to his serious heart illness he was not able to attend the ceremony. 35 Peiper appeared on the title page as the co-translator under one of his noms de plume, Marcin Bielski. He only signed the Prologue with his real name. Jaworski, U podstaw awangardy..., op. cit., 11.

45 translation, immediately raving in awe: ';Es magnifico! ;Es grandioso!']3 There is no doubt that Peiper must be considered at least the co-editor of the Spanish edition. In addition to his journalistic and editorial work, while still in Spain

Peiper familiarised himself with all the newest tendencies in literature and the arts. This experience was to have an impact on his future life and work which is hard to ignore. He also came into close contact with several leading repre­ sentatives of the avant-garde including, among others, the painter Robert De- launay and the composer Manuel de Falla. Stanislaw Jaworski suggests that in the Spring of 1920 Peiper finally left Spain for Vienna, where he stayed until

1921. It is possible that the prolonged sojourn there might have been inspired by the political situation, for exactly during that time Poland was entangled in the veritably mortal war with Soviet Russia, whose positive outcome for the newly reinstated republic was at the time much less then certain.37 However,

Peiper also speaks openly—as he always had—about the delay caused by a shortage of funds.38

[II.4] And then, on the way back to Poland, on the very day of his departure from Vienna, disaster struck of such magnitude that Peiper could not, it seems,

3 Tadeusz Peiper, O wszystkim ijeszcze o czyms, op. cit., 66. 37 Norman Davies's White Eagle, Red Star. The Polish-Soviet War, igig-ig20 (London: Orbis Books Ltd., 1983) remains the best study of that conflict available in English. For the incomparably amusing interpretation given from the (pseudo-Marxist) Soviet historiography point of view see: .T. 3yeB, A.5I. MaHyceBHH, Pi.A. XpeHOB (Pe,n,.), HcropHH FIo^buiH, TOM III - 1917-1944, (MocKBa: PlH3,n,aTe;ibCTBO Ana/jeMim HayK CCCP, 1958) 116-157. [F. G. Zuev, A. Y. Manusevich, I. A. Khrenov (Eds.), The History of Poland, Vol. Ill 1917-1944 (Moscow: Academy of Sciences of the USSR, 1958). Tedy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 312.

46 get over it for years and spoke about it with almost neurotic persistence - he mentioned it in print no less then four times: thrice in his own texts and once in an interview. He also talked about it frequently, even obsessively. In 1924, in the introductory note opening his debut volume, A, he states: 'The poems included in this book come from a ten-year period (1914-1923). The author's stay abroad, involuntarily prolonged by the war, as well as a railway accident which occurred on the day of his return to Poland and robbed him of all his manuscripts, all delayed publishing the first collection of poems.'39 In 1929, in an interview given to the poet Marian Czuchnowski for the popular daily Gios

Narodu [The Nation's Voice],40 Peiper gives still more facts and explains why he founded his theoretical organ, Zwrotnica [The Switch], and to what extent the periodical served as a specific antidepressant: 'You know what? Instead of talk­ ing about every stage of my literary career, I will speak about its first stage. Do you know why Zwrotnica was brought forth? Due to misfortune! When I was travelling back home after several years of my involuntary sojourn abroad, I did not think at all of starting a journal. But in Vienna, on the day of my departure for Krakow, some one stole my valise where I kept my manuscripts, the fruit of

39 Tadeusz Peiper, A (Krakow: Zwrotnica, 1924) 3. Quoted in: Tadeusz Peiper (Andrzej K. Waskiewicz and Stanislaw Jaworski, Eds.), Poematy i utwory teatralne [Poems and Stage Works] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1979) 635-363. 'Utwory zawarte w niniejszej ksiqzce, pochodza^ z okresu dziesi^ciu lat (1914-1923). Pobyt autora za granica^ przedluzony przymusowo na skutek wojny, oraz przypadek kolejowy, ktory zdarzyl siej w dniu powrotu do kraju i pozbawil go wszystkich jego rejkopisow, opoznih/ ukazanie siej pierwszego zbioru poezyj.' Published in Krakow between 1893 and 1939. An important journal of Christian Democrats. See: Alfred Toczek, "Emil Haecker i Jan Matyasik - redaktorzy antagonistycznych dziennikow krakowskich" [Emil Haecker and Jan Matyasik - The Editors of Competing Journals in Krakow] in: Konspekt, No. 1/2005 (21) (Krakow: Akademia Pedagogiczna).

47 several years' work. The loss was so painful that during my first year in Krakow

(1921) I was obsessed with suicide. At some point I made the final choice and the only question remaining was whether to lock myself up in the room where I was going to shoot myself, or leave the door unlocked.'4' In 1930, the conclud­ ing chapter of the volume of his critical essays, Tqdy [This Way], contains the following testimony, repeating the corresponding section of the Czuchnowski interview almost word for word: 'The article on new Spanish poetry was the first text with reference to literature, which I published in Poland... I was writ­ ing it during one of the saddest periods of my life, cast down by the loss of my manuscripts, which occurred at the Vienna station one quarter of an hour prior to leaving for Poland, and which deprived me of the fruits of several years' la­ bour. I tried to conceal my pain from other people, yet it so tormented me that my thoughts revolved around the very last questions one asks before commit­ ting suicide.'42 The most interesting elucidation, however, comes from the foreword to the Poematy, Peiper's collected poems which appeared in 1935. In

Marian Czuchnowski, "W ambasadzie awangardy" [At the Embassy of the Avant-Garde] in: Glos Narodu, No. 122, 9 May 1929. Quoted in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.) O wszystkim i jeszcze o czyms..., op. cit., 187. 'Wie Pan, czemu „Zwrotnica" zawdzi^cza swe powstanie? Nieszcz^sciu! Kiedy po latach przymusowego pobytu za granica wracalem do kraju, nie myslatemem wcale o zakladaniu pisma. Ale w dniu wyjazdu do Krakowa skradziono mi we Wiedniu walizk^, w ktorej znajdowaly sie^ wszystkie moje r^kopisy, owoc kilku lat zycia. Byla to dla mnie strata tak bolesna, ze przez pierwszy rok pobytu w Krakowie (rok 1921) zapadalem ci^gle w mysli samobojcze. Az wreszcie doszlo do ostatecznego postanowienia i zastanawialem sie_ juz tylko nad tym, czy pok6j, w kt6rym sie^ zastrzel^, zamknac na klucz, czy tez nie.' 42 Tadeusz Peiper, Tqdy (Warszawa: Ksi^garnia Ferdynanda Hoesicka, 1930) 399. Quoted in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.) Tqdy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 314. 'Artykul o nowej poezji hiszpariskiej by! pierwszym, jaki z zakresu literatury opublikowalem w kraju... Pisalem go w jednym z najsmutniejszych okresow mojego zycia, w przygn^bieniu spowodowanym strata r^kopisow, ktora kwadrans przed odejsciem pociqgu, majacego wiezc mnie do kraju, pozbawila mnie na dworcu we Wiedniu owocow kilkuletniej pracy i zepchn^la w b61, tajony przed ludzmi, ale tak szrapiacy, ze moje zamiary samobojcze obracaly sie^ juz dokola ostatnich pytari.'

48 it we read: 'My first volume... Bah! My first volume of poetry never saw the light of day - and never will. My manuscript, finished and ready to go to the printer as it was, was stolen. It was stolen in a foreign land, in a foreign city, in a famous library. It was snatched off from the table where I carelessly left it.

Obviously, at that time I did not yet know writers... And although I still had an earlier manuscript version, it, too, was stolen the following year. Thank God, this time around it was a regular railway thief who was tempted by the suitcase, not by some one else's ceuvre. Of the poems I wrote at that time not much was left, just a few sheets, mislaid somewhere - now nothing more than fallen pet­ als.'43

The four separate narratives combine into one bigger narrative unit, in which the opening motif of stolen poems becomes a theme of sorts, serving as a material for further transformations, variations, development—not unlike short motifs in Baroque music, which were employed in forms such as fugue, or, rather, not unlike the Lisztian idee fixe, or the Wagnerian Leitmotive— recurring throughout the master narrative of Peiper's (creative) life. At the be­ ginning, the motif is stated briefly, the idea is but signalised. Soon, it is sub­ jected to elaboration and transformation (variation), as it is complemented by

43 Tadeusz Peiper, Poematy (Krak6w: Koto Wydawnicze „TERAZ", 1935) 5. Quoted in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanisiaw Jaworski, Ed.), Poematy i utwory teatralne, op. cit., 25. 'Pierwszy moj tomik... Ha, moj pierwszy tomik nie ukazal si^, i nie ukaze sie^ nigdy. Skradziono mi rekopis, calkowicie przygotowany juz dla drukarni. Skradziono mi go w obcym kraju, w obcym mieEcie, w slawnej bibliotece. Skradziono mi go ze stolu, na ktorym zostawilem go nieopatrznie, nie znajac jeszcze dobrze literatow. Pozostal mi wprawdzie rekopis wczesniejszy, ale i ten mi rok poeniej skradziono. Chwala bogu, tym razem by! to juz zwyczajny zlodziej dworcowy, ktorego skusila cudza walizka, a nie cudze dzieto. Z utworow owego czasu pozostalo mi troche^ zawieruszonych gdzies kartek, ale mogry ony bye juz tylko opadrymi platkami kwiatu.'

49 another, that of suicide. Finally, the variation process reaches its most devel­ oped, conclusive stage, at which there are two thefts instead of the initial one, the first committed by a writer (perhaps Peiper's acquaintance? A Spanish one?

Very unlikely, really, as Peiper must have written in Polish. But under the cir­ cumstances anything would have been possible. A Polish emigre? We shall never know...) and the second by a professional thief. And although there is no mention of suicide any more, another paragraph implies death, another kind of

(at least partial) non-existence or bereavement - emotional (creative) rather than physical: 'The loss which I sustained prevented other people from keeping track of the years of my poetic adolescence, and this must have had serious consequences for the future. People did not watch those first steps, they did not follow them from that point at which a writer always grows out of the lit­ erature which precedes him. Having lost the initial years of my poetry, I lost the ties which bound the author to the endearments of his land. What people first saw in me was already so different from what was being done around me, that it seemed artificial, monstrous. The resentment which accompanied my poetic efforts may be explained to a large extent by the theft of my begin­ nings.'44

In other words, Peiper claims that in the eyes of his audiences, denied by

Ibidem. 'Strata, jaka^ ponioslem, sprawila, ze mlodziericze lata mojej drogi poetyckiej stafy sie^ dla ludzi nieznanymi, a to musialo miec wazne nast^pstwa. Nie widziano mojego pierwszego kroczenia, nie widziano go od punktu, ktorym pisarz zawsze wyrasta z literatury, ktora go poprzedza. Utraciwszy poczatkowe lata mojej poezji, utracilem w^zly laczace autora z czulosciami kraju. To, co po raz pierwszy u mnie zobaczono, bylo juz tak rozne od tego wszystkiego, co robiono wokol, ze wydalo sie^ tworem sztucznym, dziwolqgiem. Obcosc, na jaka^ natrafialy moje publikacje poetyckie, tlomaczy sie^ w sporej mierze kradzieza^ mojego poczqtku.'

50 chance the opportunity to accompany him on his poetic journey right from the outset, he must have been perceived as an incomplete, handicapped poet. Im­ portantly, the audiences could not witness Peiper's evolution which, as he might have expected, would have shown his mature poetry in another, brighter light. This, of course, resulted in painful controversy and misunderstanding of his poetics. Andrzej K. Waskiewicz correctly interprets this as the poet's at­ tempt to forestall the expected attack, a preemptive strike intended to prepare grounds for the more favourable reception of his poetry.45 In this context, the noticeable expansion of the opening motif of robbery (later - of poetic theft and robbery) over roughly a decade (1924-1935) stems from Peiper's ongoing unpleasant experiences related to the hostile reactions to, and often virulently negative critique of, his poetic work. As the criticism grew (or persisted), so did the poet's resolve to minimise its impact on the reader.

Stanislaw Jaworski purposefully owns that what Peiper said about the ad­ venture of the stolen valise was true: 'every person with whom I spoke on this subject is positively sure that the incident did happen, no question about it.'46

It is quite apparent that for Peiper the shock, disappointment, and frustration were all too much to overcome the despair triggered by the loss of this import­ ant chapter of his creative work. The loss cast a shadow on the poet's percep-

45 Andrzej K. Waskiewicz, W krqgu „Zwrotnicy". Studia i szkice z dziejow krakowskiej Awangardy [The "Zwrotnica" Circle. Studies and Sketches on the History of the Krakow Avant- garde] (Krakow - Wroclaw: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1983) 19-20. 4 Jaworski, "Nota biograficzna" in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), Tqdy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 420.

51 tion of reality and reverberated throughout his entire life. It was just one in a series of experiences which had been gradually making him perceive his envi­ ronment as hostile (or at least coldly indifferent) and in the end made him ab­ solutely convinced that he was a victim of a sinister plot. It contributed to

Peiper's recognising and acknowledging his otherness both as dangerous guilt

(and hence his subsequent defensive attitude) and as personal and artistic in­ compatibility with the literary milieu. It is no accident that he spoke about it on many crucial occasions, such as the publication of his first volume of poetry and then, years later, the publication of his collected poems, his proverbial po­ etic swan song. Confirmed by many, including his family, the sense of loss and the ensuing incomplete fulfilment would accompany Peiper to the very end. In a sense, he never recovered from the loss of his early poems, but he also skil­ fully used the incident to offset the often imaginary criticism. Be it as it may, it is more than likely that years later his decision to stop publishing and to with­ draw from taking part in public life was in no small part a result of this experi­ ence.

So in fact, Peiper came back home exactly the way he had left it seven years earlier - as a regular, average citizen, a thirty-year-old artistic non-entity.

[II.5] At the onset of Independence, the Polish literary scene had already seemed predestined for what was later to be considered the most unique period in the history of Polish letters thus far. Writers were among the first who fore-

52 saw the coming of the long-awaited breakthrough - and it was they who were first to express the newly regained optimism in a great number of programmes and manifestoes. Never before and never after—as one author insists—had

Polish literature seen so many of them than around 1918 and the following years, namely during the first decade of the interwar period. On not infrequent occasions, the literary programmes and manifestoes of the day appeared to be more important that the literature itself. This zest in producing programmes and manifestoes left no one unresponsive, and became apparent in a wide— and wild!—variety of communicative acts: lectures, talks, articles in news­ papers and magazines, pamphlets, brochures, books, even philosophical trea­ tises, let alone outbursts of individual violence caused by ideological differ­ ences, and litigations.47

Jerzy Kwiatkowski perceives the activities in the area of turning out pro­ grammes and manifestoes (even - "manufacturing" them on a massive scale) as leading to the emergence of a specific, new, separate genre, whose two main characteristics were: 1) precise delineation of authors' (aesthetic) stance—each programme and manifesto drawing borderlines between movements and

See Jan Stur (b. Hersz Feingold), Na przelomie. O nowej i stare) poezji [At the Turning Point. Of Poetry New and Old] (Lwow: Spolka Nakladowa „Odrodzenie", 1921), which is a typical product of the epoch. Stur's first-rate book, rich in ideas and full of accurate analyses of lasting relevance is also an example of the quality and breadth of Polish literary milieu and its pre­ occupations immediately after World War I. The book may be considered an elaborate mani­ festo of Polish Expressionism, yet it also offers interesting vistas on Polish Futurism and other literary groups of the period, such as Skamander.

53 groups—and 2) persistent, stubborn autocommentary.4 Significantly, instead of shunning the general public as "unworthy" (as had often been done a gen­ eration earlier, at the turn of the 20th Century), artists now made deliberate efforts to justify their respective positions, and not only did they target the tra­ ditionally committed readers/leaders, but the wider, often non-reading audi­ ence as well, including the lower strata of the Polish society, including the urban proletariat. These tactics must not surprise, as the social lesson of the

Italian Futurism was not lost on Polish artists, or at least some of them, espe­ cially and quite naturally Futurists. They were fully aware of the fact that in

Italy Futurism had found strong resonance among the working classes, that it had become a social movement (fed on strong nationalism, even chauvinism as well as calls for social change and reforms), and that the Italian workers had often protected and defended the Futurists during the latter's public appearan­ ces. It suffices to say that out of 20 thousand copies of the large Futurist maga­ zine, Lacerba (and a 20-thousand circulation figure for an avant-garde publica­ tion is impressive in itself), 16 thousand were distributed among, and willingly purchased by, Italian workers.49 Such a huge response would be unthinkable in

Poland, recovering politically and economically from partitions and entwined for the moment in border disputes, the Polish-Soviet war threatening the new

.0 Jerzy Kwiatkowski, Dwudziestolecie miedzywojenne [The Twenty Interwar Years] (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN, 2001) 9. 49 Stanislaw Jaworski, "Futuryzm" in: Anna Skoczek (Ed.), Historia literatury polskiej. Dwudzie­ stolecie miedzywojenne [The History of Polish Literature. The Interwar Period], Vol. VIII (Bochnia, Krakow, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo SMS, 2006) 36ff.

54 republic's very existence notwithstanding. To put it in simplest terms, at that time people had much more on their minds than becoming "pawns" in the - hands of small groups of artists. Yet respond they did, at least sporadically, al­ beit on a much smaller scale than in Italy or Russia, where Futurism and its off­ shoots had gradually become present on the political scene.

In addition, Kwiatkowski observes that at the peak of what he refers to as

"programmatic creativity," i.e. during the period of active, even relentless cre­ ation of programmatic literature and publication of manifestoes—two forms of literary pursuits clearly prioritised during the years 1918 - 1927—the majority of those who produced such literature were young ("up and coming") writers, who had only made their first steps in the literary field, but were determined to change it - and desired others to learn about it.5° However, it was a represen­ tative of the older generation, the revered novelist Stefan Zeromski (1864 -

1925), associated with the naturalist school and the anti-positivist, Modernist movement popularly known as the Young Poland, who carried off the palm as early as 1915, when he delivered the famous lecture, Literatura a zycie polskie

[Literature and Polish Life]. Kwiatkowski does not hesitate to call this lecture

"astonishing," and rightly so. Firstly, Zeromski struck his listeners and, subse­ quently, his commentators and critics by speaking so early on in the war, when there were almost no signs of the political situation turning for the better in favour of Poland, about new Polish literature and the role of the writer in a

50 Ibidem.

55 manner suggesting that he considered these issues as if Poland's independence were already round the corner, almost a fait accompli. In this regard he was almost prophetic and showed a very keen political instinct - neither the first nor the last time he would do so in his life.

Secondly, despite his strong previous convictions as to the place of litera­ ture and writers within the society and their huge responsibilities in the areas of artistic, political and social work, which, according to him, required serious involvement, all of the sudden Zeromski changed the tone of his claims and demanded that in the new country writers become concerned with literature - and literature only! To Zeromski, the stance of the controversial, one-time Fu­ turist Giovanni Papini (1881 - 1956), whom he quoted, proved exemplary: 'In

Italy the political matters are in the hands of the Minister of Foreign Affairs; the social matters are the domain of the Minister of Internal Affairs; and I am in charge of the literary matters and only such matters concern me.'51 Papini's terse statement served Zeromski to exemplify his own, newly found conviction concerning writers and their tasks under the presupposed circumstances: inde­ pendence and its aftermath as applied to literary culture. In his own inimitable way, speaking point blank yet with conviction, elegance and charm, Zeromski demonstrated how impossibly limited the contemporary Polish literature had been. Focussed almost solely on issues such as national survival and conserva­ tively understood social health; suffering from the overtly didactic outlook; be-

51 Ibidem.

56 littled by sickly polonocentric attitudes bordering on bigotry, it was not, in his opinion, ready to face the challenges of the new, refreshing reality (again: inde­ pendence). 'Here, in Poland, there are practically no literary works,' he said,

'whose only purpose remains artistic' Further on: 'For decades, Polish litera­ ture had been but substituting for the institutions of communal [social] life.'

What it meant, according to Zeromski, was that literature served as a substitute for the institutions and administrative acts—obviously affecting Polish soci­ ety—implemented and imposed by the partitioning powers. This was surely a somewhat simplistic stance, for Zeromski forgot, or did not want to take into consideration, the autotelic (self-centred) nature of the Polish Modernist movement (the Young Poland, roughly 1890 - 1918), to which he himself be­ longed, being one of its standard-bearers and most admired representatives.

On the other hand, not for nothing was Zeromski called the "steersman of

Polish literature."52 Given his national stature as the best, and most respected, prose writer and moral authority of immense influence, he could afford com­ mitting little errors and taking intellectual shortcuts while conveying his argu­ ment to the public. Even though Stanislaw Przybyszewski (1868 - 1927), the

See the very first issue of the most influential and most enduring (it appeared from 6 January 1924 until 3 September 1939; altogether 829 issues were published) literary weekly in interwar Poland, Wiadomosci Literackie [The Literary News], No 1, 6 January 1924. The front page fea­ tures an interview with Zeromski, entitled "Visiting the Steersman of Polish Literature" [U sternika polskiej literatury]. One year later Zeromski who, in the meantime, was invited to live in the Royal Castle in Warsaw, was dead. See: Janusz Stradecki, "Wiadomosci Literackie" in: Jerzy K^dziela, Jerzy Kwiatkowski, Irena Wyczariska (Eds.). Literatura polska w okresie miedzywojennym [Polish Literature Between The Wars] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1979) 281-292; Slawomir Zurawski (Ed.), Literatura polska. Encyklopedia PWN. Epoki literackie, prqdy i kierunki, dziela i tworcy [Polish Literature - Encyclopaedia. Literary Epochs, Currents and Movements, Works and Writers] (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN, 2007) 769- 770.

57 most notable figure in the Polish Modernist movement, made several good points in his critique of Zeromski's lecture, he could not change the overall re­ action to it.

One of Zeromski's most misleadingly attractive points was that since in contemporary Poland one could finally notice an energetic development of local administration (local self-government), education and cooperatives

(Zeromski considered cooperatives to be of the utmost importance), Polish lit­ erature should finally 'enter its own circle' ['by pismiennictwo polskie weszlo w swoje wlasne kolisko'] and leave 'political and societal matters in the hands that were called to do it and reached out for it' ['by sprawy polityczne i spoleczne [oddac] w powolane, wyciagniete r^ce'], which meant that the politi­ cal and social matters should be left to the professional politicians' discretion.

The reality, however, was different. Poland still suffered partition, the only change being that as a result of the Central Powers' offensive, the Russians were pushed east out of their part of the country and replaced by the German and Austro-Hungarian administration. The supposed social freedoms did not materialise; one—only slightly more tolerant—authoritarian regime replaced another. But to Zeromski it was enough; to him it signified the coming of change and strengthened his conviction regarding the possible overthrow of the century-long oppression which would lead to redefining the role of Polish writers, now finally able to stop concerning themselves with national and social issues and to liberate literature from any moral, didactic and overall utilitarian

58 functions.

Despite Zeromski's argument's obvious shortcomings and oversimplifica­ tions, its strange, "unreal" idealism notwithstanding, and while highly critical voices were not lacking, the reaction to his lecture was generally positive. In the end, Zeromski's flawed line of reasoning was accepted by many critics as truth - they repeated his theses throughout the twenty years of independence.

[II.6] Thus Zeromski, who by the way never again returned to the subject mat­ ter of his famous lecture, had influenced a large number of artists, scholars and literary critics, active after 1918, when Poland, indeed, regained her independ­ ence. To them it was obvious that literature should be autotelic in nature, that literature should serve itself, rather than the oppressed nation. Again, this proved easier said than done. One could not simply do away with the almost genetically inherited tendency of Polish writers to participate in the life of the nation reborn. Kwiatkowski cogently stresses this dichotomy between the idealistic programmes and manifestoes and everyday literary practice.53 He points out that even those writers who at the beginning of independence called for normality—like the Skamadrite poet Jan Lechori who in his much discussed poem, Herostrates, wishes that 'and in the summer - let me summer see, not

Poland' [A wiosnq - niechaj wiosn^, nie Polsk^, zobaczej—were not able to shed their natural inclinations towards social involvement. Indeed, the idea of

53 Kwiatkowski, op.cit, 11.

59 Fart pour Vart no longer had much appeal to those who, like the rest of the na­ tion, did everything they could to add to restoring the edifice of nationhood.

Here, the ideological evolution of Polish Futurists—the first "revolutionary" movement in Polish letters after the Great War—was quite symptomatic: they began with a series of typically "futuristic" excesses aimed at artistic, literary and social conventions, only to evolve later a radical, leftist poetics. Some of them - like Bruno Jasieriski - ended their lives (or, rather, their lives were vio­ lently ended during the Great Purge) in the Soviet Union, where they, more or less willingly, emigrated.54

Some literary critics in Poland refer to Polish Futurism as "belated," 'almost ten years younger than the Italian and Russian [Futurism]. When it was emer­ ging in 1919, the cardinal manifestoes of the majority of avant-garde move­ ments—except Surrealism—had already been written, and the creative efforts of their initiators brought about concrete results.'55 Such opinions are valid - but only to a certain extent. Avant-garde movements are, as if by default, team

(group) efforts. It is possible, of course, to imagine an avant-garde "movement of one" (cases in point: James Joyce and, in Poland, the amazing Stanislaw

A number of ideologically radical Polish writers who emigrated to the Soviet Union even before the war, perished during the 1930s in Stalinist purges. Especially telling is the fate of the three well-known former Futurist and Communist writers, Bruno Jasieriski, Witold Wan- durski (1891 - 1934) and Stanislaw Ryszard Stande (1897 - i937)who, like their Ukrainian counterparts Mykhail' Semenko (1892 - 1937), Geo Shkurupii (1903 - 1937), Oleksa Slisarenko (1891 - 1937), and Iuliian Shpol (1895 - 1937), were murdered there. See Oleh Ilnytzkyj. Uk­ rainian Futurism, 1914-1930. A Historical and Critical Study (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press 1997). 55 Zbigniew Jarosiriski, Helena Zaworska (Eds.), Antologia polskiego futuryzmu i Nowej Sztuki [The Anthology of Polish Futurism and New Art] (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, Gdansk: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossoliriskich, 1978) IV.

60 Ignacy Witkiewicz, known as Witkacy, 1885 - 1939)5 —and Polish Futurism, as it will be made clear in a moment, had until the end of the First World War been represented by a single person—yet it remains clear that avant-garde movements are collective by nature, individuals finding additional strength by being backed up by their peers.

In the pre-First World War Poland literary (or artistic) groups were practi­ cally non-existent; movements such as the Modernist Young Poland, yes, but not separate, quasi-formal groups in the above sense. Automatically, the po­ tential creative energy remained dispersed. Figuratively speaking, within the

Polish literary scene before 1918, entropy reigned supreme. Jerzy Kwiatkowski, in yet another highly insightful text of his, briefly explains that such a situation arose first due to the political circumstances,57 and second due to the rampant individualism of the Young Poland artistic milieu, strongly averse to team ef-

Says Milosz: '[In Witkacy's plays] his fantastic psychology, his language bearing little resem­ blance to ordinary speech, his inventiveness in devising improbable situations, in juxtaposing costumes of various epochs, in coining new words, and in the naming of his characters (for in­ stance, "Dona Scabrosa Macabrescu") made him, certainly, one of the most interesting phe­ nomena in modernist theatre... The plays are also orgies of philosophy, since even the hum­ blest figure knows the most complicated treatises on ontology... Stylistically, Witkiewicz was a descendant of "Young Poland." But writers of "Young Poland" were solemn, while Witkiewicz pressed the pedal all the way to the floor in order to achieve grotesque effects of humorous ba­ thos... His work was taboo in postwar [Communist] Poland, but in the late fifties literary critics of the young generation recognized him as one of the most figures in modernist Polish litera­ ture, and his plays became a permanent feature in the theatrical repertoire.' Czeslaw Milosz, The History of Polish Literature (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1983) 418-420. 57 Daniel Gerould elucidates neatly: 'Poland, which until 1918 had not existed as an independ­ ent country for almost a century and a half, was at a particular disadvantage in trying to follow the changing fashions in modernist [...] innovation, for it had become isolated and turned in­ ward by its own national obsessions and struggles. Because of Poland's peculiar historical and geographic position, symbolism, expressionism, futurism, Dadaism, and surrealism arrived as imports from Russia or Western Europe...' See: Daniel Gerould, Twentieth-Century Polish Avant-garde Drama. Plays, Scenarios, Critical Documents (Ithaca and London: Cornell Univer­ sity Press, 1977) 14.

61 forts.5 To be sure, in some parts of Poland, especially in the Russian partition, any groups, be it formal or informal, were looked upon by the authorities with extreme suspicion. Combined with the struggle to preserve their native lan­ guage and culture—and in German and Russian partitions the administration imposed a strictly observed strategy of subduing Polish elements and ruthlessly enforced policies of Germanisation and Russification, respectively—Polish writers faced tasks much different from those that their Russian or Western

European counterparts did. For the most part, Polish literature of the late 19th

Century was pragmatic rather than visionary. The incredible shock of the 1863

January Uprising and the ensuing brutal reaction of the Czarist authorities

(which resulted in almost a total suppression of Polish autonomy, whatever it may have been earlier in the Russian partition)59 combined, as it has been noted, with the energetic Germanisation (part of the Kulturkampf against the

Poles) undertaken roughly at the same time in the German-controlled part of

Poland, led among the native elites to a profound re-evaluation of the course of action to be taken.60 Even in the relatively tolerant and autonomous Austrian partition the defeat of the January insurgents did not go unnoticed. Politically, that defeat, accompanied by the final suppression of traditional freedoms and

Jerzy Kwiatkowski, "Glowne nurty poezji dwudziestolecia" [Main Currents in Poetry Between the Wars] in: Jerzy Kadziela, Jerzy Kwiatkowski, Irena Wyczariska (Eds.). Literatura polska w okresie miedzywojennym [Polish Literature Between the Wars] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Lit- erackie, 1979) 9. 59 Norman Davies, God's Playground: A History of Poland, Vol. II (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985) 364-365. Adam Gillon, Ludwik Krzyzanowski and Krystyna Olszer (Eds.), Introduction to Modernist Polish Literature. An Anthology of Fiction and Poetry (New York: Hippocrene Books, 1982) 23- 24.

62 rights, the decimation of the patriotic gentry (predominantly in the Russian partition),61 and the rapidly changing social structure during the early days of the capitalist enterprise—including the enfranchisement (emancipation) of the peasantry and the emergence of the modern proletariat—was a turning, if not even another defining, point in the history of Poland - and its culture. It was often thought imperative to abandon the heroic stance of Romanticism, nay, to forget it. As Kleiner nicely put it, the Romantic "Messiah" was replaced by the

Positivist "educator of the nation."62

[II.7] The Positivist idea of "organic work" (the term coined in the mid-igth

Century by Polish reformers in the Prussian partition),63 that is to say work fo­ cussing on utilitarian, political realism (often bordering on loyalism), on prac­ tical, science-based economic activities (technology, industry, commerce, agri­ culture), on education of the largely ignorant and illiterate masses, on moral and medical hygiene - was substituted for the Romantic idealistic, heroic, democratic, revolutionary—and ultimately unrealistic and futile—stance.64

This organic work, or "work at the (social) foundations," aimed for the creation of a modern society, equal to the western societies of the time, equal to the

1 Ibidem, 182-183. Juliusz Kleiner (and Wlodzimierz Maci^g). Zarys dziejow literatury polskiej [The Outline of History of Polish Literature] (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, Gdansk: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolihskich, 1972), 377. 3 Henryk Markiewicz, Literatura i historia [Literature and History] (Krakow: Universitas, 1994) 76. 4 Kleiner, op. cit., 365-368.

63 challenges posed by the rapidly developing capitalist formation. It also aimed for preservation of the Polish national element, subjected to vehement repres­ sions.65 It has to be understood that Polish Positivists were not unpatriotic and necessarily resigned to accepting the political status quo of the partitions. Con­ trariwise, they were patriots, but expressed their patriotism in a way they con­ sidered workable.66 To them it was much more important to create favourable social grounds for a possible rebirth of the state, and to create such favourable grounds they preferred to employ any available legal means.67 Peter D.

Stachura states:

With the failure of the 1863 insurrection against the Russians, thus end­ ing, for the time being at least, the era of Romantic nationalism in Po­ land, most Poles invested their energies and hopes in a process that came to be known as 'Organic Work'. Notions of armed rebellion as a way of regaining Poland's freedom and independence were abandoned in favour of a strategy which, shaped by the Positivist school of thought in Warsaw, emphasized the virtues of developing the economy, educa­ tion, language and culture through hard work and thrift within the par­ titionist political and constitutional order. 'Organic Work' was under-

With the notable exception of the Austrian partition. Shaken by the severe defeats by France and Piedmont (1859) and Prussia (1866), the dual monarchy could not but loosen its grip on the nations within its borders and relax its hitherto rather inflexible internal policy. The Polish Partition, Galicia, obtained limited autonomy in spheres such as self-government, jurisdiction, administration, education and economy. See: Juliusz Bardach (Ed.), Historia panstwa i prawa Polski [The History of the Polish State and Its Legal System], Vols. Ill & IV (Warszawa: Pahstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1981); Jozef Buszko, Historia Polski. Od niewoli do niepodleglosci 1864-^18 [The History of Poland. From Bondage To Independence 1864-1918], Vol. VIII (Krakow: Fogra, 2000); Zbigniew Fras, Galicja [Galicia] (Wroclaw: Wydawnictwo Dolnoslaskie, 1999); Anna Skoczek, Historia literatury polskiej. Pozytywizm, op. cit., 16. See also: Charles L. Killinger, The history of Italy (Westport: Greenwood Publishing Group, 2002) 111-116; Steven Beller, A Concise History of Austria (Cambridge, New York: Cambridge Univer­ sity Press, 2006); Endre Hars, Zentren, Peripherien und kollektive Identitdten in Osterreich- Ungarn (Tubingen: Francke, 2006). Grazyna Borkowska, "Pozytywizm - blaski i cienie" in: Znak, No. 2(489) (Krakow: 1996), 14- 15; See also: Grazyna Borkowska, Pozytywisci i inni. Mala historia literatury polskiej, Vol. 6 [The Positivists and Others. A Concise History of Polish Literature.] (Warszawa: Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1996) 14 ff; Kleiner, op. cit., 366. 7 Kleiner, ibidem.

64 stood as a more rewarding and effective means, in the age of industri­ alization, of preserving the Polish identity, even if this meant accepting the oppressive reality of partition and postponing the idea of regaining independence far into the future.

To this, Grazyna Borkowska adds:

To the generation of Positivists, patriotism was an obvious point of de­ parture, written into their biographies, though rarely a part of their programme... Positivism was a response to the situation after the de­ feat, a response formulated against the double enemy - the repressive Partitioning powers as well as that part of public opinion at home, which escaped into privacy, cultivation of national symbols and national rituals. Thus they understood their own patriotism and im­ pressed this understanding upon the rest. The generation of Prus and Orzeszkowa realised very well that the calamity of the January Uprising fundamentally changed the condition of the Poles, that the romantic scenario had to be disposed of as entirely useless... [T]he masses must now find their own proper place, determined by the standards of a modern, civic state.'69

Logically, to many—perhaps to most—younger and newcoming writers and artists the romantic paradigm was not relevant any more; the new philosophy implied, and given the circumstances unquestionably demanded, new ways of resuming the social multilogue. Hence, the almost immediate triumph and the immense popularity of realism and, later, naturalism among them. But among

Polish critics (and then the educated echelons of the public), the entire Positiv- ist "epoch" has right from the outset generated passionate polemics and ex­ treme—in the truest sense of the word—opinions - and it is not difficult to see why. When viewed through the flamboyant excess of Romantic heroics, Polish

Peter D. Stachura (Ed.), Poland between the Wars, 1918-1939, op. cit., 63. Borkowska, op. cit., 14-15.

65 Positivist literature may seem rather too shy, too lacklustre, too boring,70 too pragmatic, and too didactic, at its worst sometimes even nauseating in its pseudo-realistic and pseudo-naturalistic sentimentality and intellectual primi- tivism - oftentimes when portraying the harsh living conditions of the lower classes. To make matters worse, in the 1950s, likely the darkest period in Po­ land's history after the Second World War, this particular attribute of the Posi­ tivist school, the focus on society's lower classes (victims of the prejudiced and degenerate aristocracy, abusive gentry, and insatiable capitalists), was not lost on the Communist ideologues. They reached out for the Positivist literary tra­ dition as a ready-made propaganda tool, a template of sorts, to promote the

Soviet-sponsored aesthetics of socialist realism,71 according to them the Holy

Grail of people's literature and the arts. Exploring and expounding the similari­ ties and topical analogies between Positivist literature and socialist realism served to make the new cultural and social policies look righteous, ?2 it served to achieve 'clearly manipulative and unbearably didactic goals.'73 No wonder generation upon generation of disgusted pupils, students and the reading pub-

Marta Wyka, "Niewygoda mi^dzyepoki" [The Discomfort in Between Epochs] in: Znak, No. 2(489) (Krakow: 1996) 99-101. Cf. the other essays in the same issue of Znak: Grazyna Borkow- ska, "Pozytywizm - blaski i cienie" [Positivism - Its Splendours and Miseries] 13-19; Henryk Markiewicz, "Pochwala polskiego pozytywizmu" [In Praise of Polish Positivism] in: Znak, No. 2(489) 102-111; Aneta Mazur, "Lagodne prawo pozytywizmu" [The Gentle Law of Positivism] 20- 23; Jerzy Szacki, "Gdyby pozytywizmu nie bylo..." [If There Were No Positivism...] 89-92; Jan Tomkowski, "Zadnych szans na pozytywizm?" [No Chance for Positivism?] 5-12; Teresa Walas, "Przedwczesny pogrzeb pozytywizmu" [The Premature Burial of Positivism] 93-97. 71 Edward Mozejko, Realizm socjalistyczny. Teoria. Rozwoj. Upadek [Socialist Realism. Theory. Evolution. Decline] (Krak6w: Universitas, 2001). 72 Anna Skoczek, Historia Hteratury polskiej. Pozytywizm [The History of Polish Literature. Positivism] ], Vol. VI (Bochnia, Krakow, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo SMS, 2006) 7. 73 Wyka Marta, ibidem.

66 lie (not to mention some very unenthusiastic academics and literary critics) re­ jected Positivist literature as a matter of course.

On the other hand it would be too simple—and simplistic—a solution to dismiss the poor Positivists as irrelevant, a stillborn child of Polish pragmatism

(if there is such a thing). For a while now, the Positivist tradition has been ear­ nestly reconsidered and re-evaluated in Poland's scholarly circles - and rightly so, for the achievement of the Polish Positivist intellectuals, educators, artists and writers (maybe the novelists and journalists more than the poets and play­ wrights) is nothing short of impressive. They perfected the vernacular - flex­ ible, elegant, now saturated with economy and precision; originally developed and effectively cultivated genres such as the novel, short story and others; laid the foundations for the development of a modern press, progressive journalism and its own genres; gave the necessary impetus to the spread of literacy.74

Some of them did produce spectacular works. Henryk Sienkiewicz (1846 -

1916) remains the best known, the first Pole to receive the Nobel Prize (1905) for his classic, Quo vadis (first published in periodicals between 1895 and 1896).

He started off as a journalist75 among whose works are some excellent Ameri­ can sketches and reports based on his travels there. Then he tried his hand at prose writing, which brought him colossal success and popularity. Sienkiewicz is a special case in that he, like Flaubert in Salammbo, was able to remain a realist and, at the same time, cultivate the genre of historic novel going back to

Anna Skoczek, Historia literatury polskiej. Pozytywizm, op. cit., 21. Ibidem, 394.

67 Sir Walter Scott, albeit much differently. His enjoyable, superbly designed and written historic frescoes in prose, dealing with the crucial period of the mid-

17th Century wars with the Cossacks, Swedes and the Ottoman Empire, became an essential part of the Polish literary canon. In them, he revived the tradi­ tional, nationalistic imperialist ideal (akin to the German Drang nach Osten), for which he was severely, even contemptuously, chastised by the eminent and controversial critic, Stanislaw Brzozowski (1878 - 1911),y6 as well as Czeslaw

Milosz.77 Alongside Sienkiewicz, Boleslaw Prus (Aleksander Glowacki, 1847 -

1912) and two excellent women writers of 'the first order:' the poet, journalist and novelist, Maria Konopnicka (1842 - 1910), and Eliza Orzeszkowa, (1841 -

1910) who left notable prose works, have remained significant,78 as have the ex­ cellent realist painters such as Stanislaw Witkiewicz (also prose writer and critic; 1851 - 1915, father of Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz - Witkacy), Mak- symilian Gierymski (1846 - 1874) and his brother Aleksander (1850 - 1901), and

Jozef Chelmohski (1849-1914).

Both the critics of and the apologists for the Positivist episode—with its cult of rational progress, modern technology, sciences, education, social activism, and with its well hidden social idealism—often tend to overlook one of its most

7 Stanistaw Brzozowski (Ed. Henryk Markiewicz), Eseje i studia o literaturze [Essays and Liter­ ary Studies] (Wroclaw: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolinskich, 1990) 411. 77 Cf. Czeslaw Milosz, Prywatne obowiqzki [Private Obligations] (Olsztyn: Pojezierze, 1990). 7 Grazyna Borkowska, Malgorzata Czermiriska, Ursula Phillips, Pisarki polskie od sredniowiecza do wspolczesnosci. Przewodnik [Polish Women Writers from the Middle Ages to the Present. A Guide] (Gdansk: slowo/obraz terytoria, 2000) 70-75, 80-83; Grazyna Borkowska, Alienated Women. A Study of Polish Women's Fiction 1845-1918. Translated by Ursula Phillips (Budapest: Central European University Press, 2001), 192-202, 204-233.

68 interesting aspects - its connection to that wing of the Polish avant-garde of the interwar period, which took up where the Positivists, and not just the Mod­ ernists, left off: Tadeusz Peiper and the Krakow Avant-garde.

[II.8] One must but agree that the Positivists' provincialism and eventual fail­ ure to impose the desired social changes— logically, when faced with inflexible state policies, the Positivists' efforts proved futile—put off many of its critics, who considered its ideas outdated and influence suffocating. Gillon,

Krzyzanowski and Olszer explain: 'Poland's traditional close ties with Western

Europe were impaired after the 1863 uprising and the country was cut off from the mainstream of European thought and art. This lasted for some two de­ cades, when European influences began once again to seep into the country's intellectual blood stream. The European influence was clearly felt in the movement called Young Poland, which began in Austrian Poland, especially in

Cracow.'79 Undeniably, it remains obvious that younger artists may have felt scornful toward the Positivists' project; they may have felt also that within the

Positivist framework there was no room for spontaneous self-expression, and that there was no room for experimentation either. Their reaction was violent, unforgiving - and partially (but only partially) justified.

The period typically referred to by Polish historiography and literary schol­ arship as Young Poland still generates emotions, both among the critics and

9 Adam Gillon, Ludwik Krzyzanowski and Krystyna Olszer, op. Cit, 26.

69 general literary audience. Usually, it is believed to have flourished between

1890 and 1918. Of course, such periodisations are always a matter of scholarly convention. However, it is also true that around 1890 there occurred among

Polish intellectuals, critics, artists and writers alike, a visible and almost physi­ cally felt shift in the literary and artistic paradigms.80 Young Poland—the term was coined in 1898 by the critic, writer and translator, Artur Gorski (1870 -

1950), in a series of articles published in the Krakow weekly, Zycie [Life], later issued in a separate volume (then withdrawn)—was characterised by an amal­ gamation of Romantic and current, innovative (Modernist) topoi, some ab­ sorbed from the local tradition (such as Polish Romanticism and, quite ironi­ cally, progressive traits of Positivism) and some, from the West (Art Nouveau,

Sezession).8l Gorski's argument was supported by that of the aforementioned

Stanislaw Przybyszewski, then Zycie's Editor-in-Chief, in his famous manifesto

of extreme personal artistic solipsism, Confiteor, published in 1899, shortly af­

ter Gorski's programme.

First and foremost, Young Poland is synonymous with extreme aestheticism,

0 Cf. Tadeusz Bujnicki and Janusz Maciejewski (Eds.), Przetom antypozytywistyczny w polskiej swiadomosci kulturowej korica XIX wieku [The Antipositivist Breakthrough in Polish Cultural Consciousness at the End of the 19th Century] (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, Gdansk, Lodz: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossoliriskich, 1986). See also: Anna Skoczek (Ed.), Historia literatury polskiej. Pozytywizm [The History of Polish Literature. The Interwar Period. Positivism], Vol. VI (Bochnia, Krakow, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo SMS, 2006); eadem, Historia literatury polskiej. Mloda Polska [The History of Polish Literature. Young Poland], Vol. VII (Bochnia, Krakow, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo SMS, 2006); Kazimierz Wyka, Mloda Polska [Young Poland], Vols. I & II (Krak6w: Wydawncitwo Literackie, 1987). Q. Slawomir Zurawski (Ed.), Literatura polska. Encyklopedia PWN, op. Cit., 234, 442-446 [excerpts from Gorski's progrmmatic article], 441-449, 708-710 [excerpts from Stanislaw Przybyszewski's manifesto, Confiteor]. See also: Maria Podraza-Kwiatkowska (Ed.), Programy i dyskusje literackie okresu Mtodej Polski [Young Poland's Programmes and Literary Discussions] (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolihskich, 2000).

70 with a "flamboyant" aesthetical and philosophical reaction against Positivism, here understood as Young Poland's antithesis. The differences, as stressed in various ways by critics and artists themselves, were numerous and signalled a radical departure from the predominantly rationalistic models based on emula­ tion of pragmatic doctrines of the mid-igth Century philosophy (Auguste

Comte, also the Utilitarian philosophy of John Stuart Mill and Herbert Spen­ cer). Gorski and Przybyszewski clearly saw the incompatibilities of the two sys­ tems when they compared Young Poland, associated with fresh, Modernist ten­ dencies, to the philistine Positivism. This conflict between Positivism and

Young Poland is very telling. The ideological and structural differences be­ tween Positivism and Young Poland can be reduced to a series of common po­ larities.

• On an aesthetic level: whereas Positivism favoured a realistic, discursive,

cool and balanced approach, narrative discipline and formal order, Young

Poland rejected such method in favour of brutal naturalism (as in best prose

of Stefan Zeromski); symbolism (as in mature poetry of Jan Kasprowicz's,

i860 - 1926); impressionism (as in the so-called landscape lyric of Kazimierz

Przerwa-Tetmajer, 1865 - 1940); non-discursive, free narrative strategies and

formal openness (as in the stage works and poetry of Boleslaw Micihski,

1873 ~ 191^> the highly innovative precursor of Expressionism and Sur­

realism, among others; as well as in the novels, prose poems and dramas of

Stanislaw Przybyszewski himself).

71 • On a rhetorical level: the Positivist language of Prus or Orzeszkowa - or­

derly, characterised by lexical elegance and responsiveness to the moral at­

tributes of the subject, which in the end gave a sense of moderation and

balance - was now replaced by lexical and syntactical eccentricity; a prefer­

ence for asymmetrical, "flawed" beauty; a partiality for the striking and the

bizarre, now habitually substituted for regularity and order; a preference for

pathological detail above symmetry and proportion; a predilection for spar­

kling, hyperexpressive style; for the emotionally charged phrase; for the

mysterious, exotic epithetical qualities; for all that dazzles, amazes, scan­

dalises, undermines narrative conventions (as it does in Przybyszewski's

erotically obsessed prose and drama); desire for expressing conflicts within

social narratives (as in the prose of Waclaw Berent, 1873 - 1940, especially

his novels: Fachowiec [The Specialist, 1895] and Ozimina [Winter Wheat,

1911]).

• On an ethical level: Young Poland, in its dialectical resistance to Positivist

philosophy, shook off the notions of the unchangeable, perennial wisdom of

the society, superiority of pure (or practical) reason as a governing princi­

ple of human actions, and that of the rational method, moving instead to­

wards the irrational and recognition of spontaneously expressed feelings

and passions as a justifiable sources of learning.

• On an epistemological level: the Positivists worshipped the empirical ap­

proach to cognitive process (as manifested in contemporary sciences) and

72 to observable aspects of human existence; as a result a gradual replacement

of the authority of the metaphysics led to increasing rationalisation of life in

general. Young Poland, in turn, stressed the importance of the individual's

own metaphysical and transcendental experience (Przybyszewski: Zur Psy-

choligie des Individuums. Chopin und Nietzsche, 1892) - the individual

"could" now desire to understand the essence of things, the essence filtered

through one's subjective perceptions. Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Sorel,

Bergson - these were the modernists' philosophical reference points.

• On a theological/ontological level: Young Poland challenged the Positivists'

elegant and fairly traditional vision of God. The Modernists undermined

the mechanistic concept of the orderly fashion in which the divine provi­

dence organised Nature. Hanna Filipkowska observes that Polish Modern­

ists were obsessed with the eschatological motif of Dies irae, God's wrath

and final 'closure of the sacred history of the world' on the Judgment Day

{vide significant works entitled Dies irae by Jan Kasprowicz; Edward

Leszczyhski, 1880 - 1921; Boleslaw Micihski; Lucjan Rydel, 1870 - 1918; Jerzy

Zulawski, 1874 - 1915; also Wlodzimierz Perzyriski, 1877 - 1930; and

Wladyslaw Orkan, 1875 ~ 193°)- Alternatively, Young Poland announced in­

terest in individual, often mythical, heroes, oriental religions and Satanism

(the idea of artists as Satan's, or Lucifer's, servants; Przybyszewski: 7b-

73 tenmesse, 1893; Satans Kinder, 1897). 2

• On a conceptual level: as opposed to the urban-orientated Positivism (al­

though due to the nature and state of the economy Polish Positivists often

employed rural topoi), Young Poland acknowledged the metaphysical and

transcendental value of Nature - it idolised rustic elements, and incorpo­

rated a natural, "unpolished," dynamic and not infrequently demonic or, on

the contrary, offering a sensual metaphor of faith, landscape and everyday

rural life into its ideological fabric (discernible in the highly symbolic

dramas by Stanislaw Wyspianski, 1867 - 1907, namely Klqtwa [Curse, 1899],

Sedziowie [Judges, 1907] and, first and foremost, Wesele [The Wedding,

staged 1901]; '[Wesele's] powerful emotional impact,' says Czeslaw Milosz,

'sparked a new era in Polish theater;'83 also in Jan Kasprowicz's poetry, and a

number of mature poems by Leopold Staff, 1878 - 1957, NB. betraying the

latter's curious preference for the Apollinian, classicist poetic forms and

genres, and whose poetics later exercised heavy influence on the Skaman-

drite poets).

• On a social level: it was Young Poland - as opposed to "bourgeois" Positiv­

ism - that introduced motifs and issues marking the beginning of new

social consciousness, based on the concept, and exploring the issue, of con-

2 Hanna Filipkowska, "Z problematyki mitu w literaturze Mlodej Polski" [Problems of Myth in the Literature of Young Poland] in: Hanna Kirchner and Zbigniew Zabicki (Eds.), Problemy literatury polskiej lat 1890-1939 Vols. 1 & 2 (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, Gdansk: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolinskich, 1974) Vol. I, 221-252. 3 Czeslaw Milosz, The History of Polish Literature (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1983) 356.

74 flicts between individuals (artists) and their hostile social environment

(Waclaw Berent: Prochno [Rotten Wood, 1903]).

• And, equally importantly, on the personal, intellectual level of artistic

praxis: the Modernists broke free from the earlier, Positivist, post-

Aristotelian mimetic theories of art. These theories presupposed that the

author's work must reflect 'reality', but in a very special way - by choosing

what is true. The Positivist artist was to synthesise an object from the exist­

ing parts, and to turn it into a generalised, uniform and familiar form,

stressing the perfect similarity of the preselected categories of 'real' phe­

nomena (and hence the overwhelming preponderance of narrative prose

and journalistic forms among the Positivist writers). By contrast, the Mod­

ernists redefined the (now highly individualised) creative process by accept­

ing the notion of the autonomy and superiority of the artist, presently re­

quired to cultivate art for its own sake (I'art pour I'art); by worshiping im­

agination (which now enjoyed a much heightened prestige), originality,

spontaneity; and by acknowledging the transcendence of the aesthetic vi­

sion and its practical literary embodiment. Thus, this untamed spontaneity

and "incoherence" dwell at Young Poland's aesthetical roots.

Not for nothing is Polish Modernism seen by many, and rightly so, as a movement with strong neo-romantic inclinations. It established its own rich— if fundamentally decadent and nihilist—"dark" tradition, against which the

Polish Avant-garde of the post-First World War period stepped forth to strike a

75 blow. Yet one must also realise that of all of them, Polish Modernism, Young

Poland, was probably the only Polish artistic movement, which from the very beginning kept abreast of progressive developments in Europe. Przybyszewski is a case in point. During his German years, and he spent part of his life in

Germany and Norway, he enjoyed a tremendous reputation there as writer, thinker, scandalist and, last but not least, electrifying interpreter of Chopin's music - while drunk. While in Berlin and Norway, he belonged to the elite of the German-Scandinavian bohemian milieu, having met, and in some instances befriended, Richard Dehmel, Edvard Munch, August Strindberg, also Knut

Hamsun, Henrik Ibsen, Theodor Kittelsen, Gustav Vigeland, Julie Wolfthorn, to mention just a few. By them he was influenced, no doubt about it - and influ­ enced them in his turn. Today remembered chiefly for his outrageous lifestyle

(making any debauched rock or rap star, be it male or female, look like a well- behaved schoolchild), his importance during that era is hard to overestimate and must be taken and considered seriously.

[II.9] As noted before, like the Modernists before them, who turned violently against the Positivist tradition, now the representatives of the newest schools turned against their most immediate predecessors, the Modernists themselves, although there was one exception in this negative attitude, this exception being

Polish Expressionism. This is completely understandable, for clear traces of the

Expressionistic poetics are already found in many Modernist works, especially

76 those by Przybyszewski, Kasprowicz (Hymny [Hymns], first published in two separate volumes in 1901 and 1902, respectively, and then in 1922 in a single volume), Berent (the novel Zywe kamienie [Living Stones], 1918). Quite natu­ rally, Polish Expressionism emerged and developed within the sphere of Ger­ man influences (German partition). Practically all leading Polish Expression­ ists, who hailed from the western part of the country, were fluently bilingual

(for instance, many important works by Przybyszewski appeared originally in

German, and only then their Polish translations followed). During the First

World War, they began gravitating towards concepts presented by Przybyszew­ ski, the leader of the movement, at least at the beginning. By 1917, they estab­ lished an informal group, gathered round the literary-artistic biweekly, Zdroj

[The Spring, 1917 - 1922].

Admittedly, Polish Expressionism was indebted to the Romantics, especially

Juliusz Slowacki (1809 - 1849),84 whose mysticism, or, rather, mystical evolu­ tionism, had proven almost irresistible to Przybyszewski (Ekspresjonizm -

Slowacki i "Genezis zDucha" [Expressionism - Slowacki and "Genesis of the

Spirit"], 1918) and others, namely Jerzy Hulewicz (1886 - 1941; Ego eimi, 1921 - a syncretic commentary on the Gospel of John, written in a hyper-expressive style) and the principal theoretician of the movement, Jan Stur (1895 - 1923;

'If Mickiewicz inaugurated the Romantic movement in Poland, it was undoubtedly in Slowacki that it reached its apotheosis. Isolated, overflowing with imagination and wildly ego­ centric, he died at the age of thirty-nine of tuberculosis after a brief career that resulted in a body of work at once lyrical, dramatic and epic' Francis Claudon, The Concise Encyclopedia of Romanticism. Translated by Susie Saunders (Secaucus, NJ: Chartwell Books, Inc., 1980) 236.

77 manifesto Czego chcemy [What We Want], 1920; Na przeiomie. O nowej i stare] poezji [At the Turning Point. Of Poetry New and Old], 1921).85 In Czego chcemy, first published in Zdroj, Stur states boldly:

Expressionism is a continuance of Romanticism.86 It is its continuance, which means that it proceeds in the same direction as Romanticism, only farther, realising its postulates in a more consistent, i.e. more radi­ cal, way. "Faith and love," says Mickiewicz in his Romantycznosc [The Romantic], "are more discerning than a wise man's lenses or learn­ ing." 7 Therefore that which is happening within me; that which I can­ not see, hear, touch; that which is not detectable by the senses; that which I can only feel and that in which I believe, is more important, truer, loftier than all the incarnations of the outside, tangible world. The logical consequence of the exaltation of the soul over the world of material shapes, the exaltation of the internal feelings, reflections, pas­ sions which the senses cannot define, is the exaltation of truth over beauty... Until now, beauty was closely tied to the manifestations of the visible, tactile reality. Yet, as we have already underlined, for Ex­ pressionism—which is a metaphysical current—the outness is nothing when confronted with the inwardness. This is precisely why Expres­ sionism may give up on beauty in the name of truth. This Expression- 00 ism does.

The Romantics undermined the mechanistic concept of the orderly fashion in which divine providence organised Nature. As well, they did not hesitate to challenge philosophical materi­ alism. Alternatively, Romanticism announced a specific return to spirituality in forms of—in the case of Adam Mickiewicz (1798 - 1855) and Juliusz Slowacki very likely Swedenborgian— mysticism, messianism, neo-Platonism (Plotinus), rediscovery of mediaeval thought (theology) and, in extreme cases, pantheism. In the end, this sometimes led to the renewal of (mystical) Catholic beliefs, repeatedly tied to the contest between experiences of flesh and spirit, between pain, hell and the ultimate release and liberation. See: Anna Skoczek (Ed.), Historia literatury polskiej. Romantyzm. [The History of Polish Literature. Romanticism] Vol. V, Part II (Bochnia, Krakow, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo SMS, 2006) 16, 35 ff. And as such, a continuance of Young Poland, from which it inherited much. 87 In Polish: 'Czucie i wiara silniej mowi do mnie / Niz medrca szkielko i oko.' Translation based on Milosz, The History of Polish Literature, op. cit., 213. QQ Jan Stur, Czego chcemy [What We Want], quoted in: Andrzej Lam, Polska awangarda poetycka. Programy lat 1917 - 1923 [Polish Poetic Avant-garde. Programmes 1917 - 1923], Vols. I & II (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1969) Vol. II, 138: 'Ekspresjonizm jest dalszym ci^giem Romantyzmu. Jest dalszym ciagiem: tzn. jest d^zeniem idqcym w tym samym, co Romantyzm, kierunku, jeno ze dalej, spelniaj^c jego postulaty w sposob bardziej konsekwentny, a tym samym bardziej radykalny. „Czucie i wiara - powiada Mickiewicz w Romantycznosci - silniej m6wi^ do mnie niz medrca szkielko i oko". Czyli to, co sie we mnie dzieje, czego dostrzec, uslyszec, dotknac si^, zadnym zmyslem uchwycic nie mog^, co jedynie odczuwam i w co wierz^, jest rzeczq wazniejsz^, prawdziwsz^, wznioslejszq niz wszystkie objawy zewnetrznego, dotykalnego 78 As opposed to the sometimes impossibly ecstatic Przybyszewski and Hule- wicz, Stur remained a 'typical literary critic and creator of programmes,'89 who tried to establish a theoretical platform for the movement. His premature death of tuberculosis prevented him from fully achieving this goal.

All in all, Polish Expressionism suffered from the same syndrome as its

German counterpart (and model). Its verbose rhetorical exaggeration; its ec­ static, overly expressive, even pathetic diction; its deformed lexis making unre­ strained use of contrast, hyperbole, grotesquerie and caricature; its contempt for form; its 'particularly unfortunate symbiosis of tradition and innovation' - constituted exactly that group of literary attributes against which Poland's new poets generally revolted.90 Today, most probably only two poets and prose writers associated with the movement are still read: Jozef Wittlin (1896 - 1976) and the extraordinarily prolific Emil Zegadlowicz (1888 - 1941). Interestingly, the latter's evolution, leading his version of Expressionism towards regionalism

(both thematically and linguistically), folk inspirations and stylisations, also

Franciscan motifs, brought him very close to the (former) Futurists such as

swiata. Konsekwencja^ logiczna^ wywyzszenia duzy, wewnetrznych, nie podpadajacych pod zmysfy uczuc, rozmyslari, namietnosci itd. ponad swiat materialnych ksztattow jest wywyzszenie prawdy ponad pi^kno... Pi^kno byio potad 6ci61e zwiazane z objawami widzialnej, dotykalnej rzeczywistosci. A jak juz zaznaczylismy, dla ekspresjonizmu jako proadu metafizycznego, zewnetrznosc wobec wewn^trznosci jest niczym. Przeto nader latwo moze z piejkna w imie^ prawdy zrezygnowac. Czyni to ekspresjonizm.' Jerzy Kwiatkowski, Dwudziestolecie miqdzywojenne, op. cit., 15. 90 Ibidem, 82. See also: Slawomir Zurawski (Ed.), Literatura polska. Encyklopedia PWN., op. Cit., 177-178.

79 Bruno Jasieriski.

[II. 10] It must be emphasised that although Polish Futurism came into view with full force right after the First World War, along with several other pro­ gressive movements (or, rather, groups), the whole process of its formation had begun much earlier ("earlier" by the 20th Century Avant-garde standards), around 1914, when Jerzy Jankowski (1887 - 1941) adopted Futurist poetics and published his first poems, imbued with a new literary spirit. Jankowski was a very curious and colourful character. Born in Wilno/Vilnius, he attended a gymnasium there, but was expelled due to his behaviour and personal princi­ ples. He moved to Kronstadt where he finally obtained his gymnasium di­ ploma in 1904. Then he entered university in St. Petersburg, joined the Polish

Socialist Party [Polska Partia Socjalistyczna, PPS] and took part in the 1905

Revolution. During the Revolution, the party delegated him to fcodz, a large industrial centre, where he worked clandestinely as an agitator among the pro­ letariat. For that, the Czarist government banished him from the Empire and subsequently Jankowski spent some time abroad, first in Germany, then

France. Back home at last, in 1911 he received a degree in law, awarded him by the university in Tartu (Estonia; then known under the German name of Dor- pat and situated within the borders of the Russian Empire). Earlier, in 1906, he turned to journalism, from then on his main profession, and began to write and

91 Kwiatkowski, op. cit., 82-86.

80 publish columns and reviews in Gazeta Wileriska [The Wilno Gazette], where also his first poems appeared. As a journalist, he wrote a lot and was able to make a living contributing to numerous journals and magazines. In 1912, he founded his own paper, Tydzien [The Week], which survived until 1913 (twenty- seven issues appeared between November 1912 and May 1913). Among Tydzien's contributors were some of the leading intellectuals, critics and writers of the day, namely Jan Lemanski (1866 - 1933), Bruno Winawer (1883 - 1944), Boleslaw

Lesmian (1878 - 1937), Stanislaw Baczyriski (1890 - 1939), and Zygmunt

Kisielewski (1882 - 1942). Like most Polish avantgardists a few years later, en­ thusiastic about Walt Whitman, whom they considered one of their spiritual fathers, Jankowski published his poems, too.92

An adamant social democrat throughout his life, Jankowski was a vocal proponent of newest tendencies and artistic trends and an uncompromising critic of Polish Modernism, the aforementioned Young Poland. His manifesto­ like editorial in the first issue of Tydzien brings up the following statement, in which he mockingly quotes Polish Modernist poets' stock-in-trade metaphors:

It scares me to think that, without asking any one's permission life cre­ ates new shapes and new values, and yet we are still stuck in the same "mud of tears," we are still draped in the same "sighs of mist." It scares me to think to what extent that inert, passive, outdated form of life took us in possession, imposing upon us commonplace rigours of be­ haviour, made so abhorrently banal by the hopeless sterility of dozens ofyears.93

92 Zbigniew Jarosiriski, Helena Zaworska, op. cit., XV-XVII. 93 Quoted in Andrzej Lam, op. cit., Vol. I, 55: 'Strach pomyslec, ze zycie nowe tworzy ksztaky i nowe wartosci, niie pytajac nikogo o pozwolenie, a my wciaz grz^zniemy w tym samym „blocie z lez", wci^z spowijamy sif w te same „westchnienia mgly". Strach pomyslec, jak inercyjna,

81 Jankowski, the lonely pioneer of Polish Futurism, as it were, 'the tragic fore­ runner and John the Baptist of Polish Futurism,'94 and yet today almost an ut­ terly forgotten figure, introduced to the (progressive) Polish letters notions such as negative critique of tradition and traditional values, both social and ar­ tistic (as already noted, he was especially fond of chastising the Modernists, with very few exceptions to the rule); appreciation of the modern, industrial societies, with their masses and mass movements (he glorified and at the same time feared the power of modern collectives, which in this respect places him between the Futurists and the Expressionists);95 close connection with the present day civilisation and its evolutionary mechanisms (as expressed in his press publications and poems); fascination with modern technology (telegraph, cinematograph, electric clocks and signboards, aviation); idealisation of urban living and its intricate philosophy (he complained about the backwardness of his native Lithuania, which 'had only a presentiment of urbanism, neo- humanism and cosmic consciousness - the components of Futurism');96 cre­ ative activism (vs. the passivity of Polish authors as he knew them and under­ stood their work); aggressive propagation of new artistic modes of self- expression (as opposed to the stale, self-perpetuating repertoire of the Modern- bierna, przestarzala forma zycia owladn^la nami, narzucajac nam utwrte rygory postepowania, zbanalizowane az do obrzydzenia przez beznadziejna^ jalowosc dziesiatkow lat.' 94 Bruno Jasiefiski, "Futuryzm polski (Bilans)" [Polish Futurism (Summary)] in: Eadem (Edward Balcerzan, Ed.), Utwory poetyckie, manifesty, szkice [Poetic Works, Manifestoes, Sketches] (Wroclaw: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossoliriskich, 1972) 231. In her fundamental book, The Poetic Avant-garde in Poland 1918 -1939, Bogdana Carpenter allots Jankowski five lines. 95 Andrzej Lam, op. cit., 58. 9 Quoted in Zbigniew Jarosiriski, Helena Zaworska, op. cit., 83.

82 ists whom he accused of formalism, and as opposed to other, even more con­ servative artistic orientations); appreciation both of the lower strata of con­ temporary society and culture (which he first noticed in Whitman's poetry, and which he sometimes tried to capture in his own, featuring workers, shady char­ acters and revolutionaries alike, as in his best known poem, Tram wpopszek ulicy [A Tram Akross the Street; here the noun "tram" is used as a synecdoche denoting a makeshift barricade: a heaved down tramcar is so used by the revo­ lutionary workers who hide behind it]) and, finally, unbending, uncompromis­ ing identification with the political left.

His first futurist poems were published in Widnokrqg [The Horizon]: the date of 30 May 1914 may be considered the birthday of Polish Futurism. On that day, in issue 22 of Widnokrqg, Jankowski published his seminal Splon lot- nika [The Aviator Burning], a poem betraying fascination with newest technol­ ogy (and not just aviation), written phonetically, full of neologisms and strangely refreshing imagery (at least by the standards of Polish poetry of the period) - and gripping, as it dealt with a catastrophe in the air: the engine bursts into flames, consuming the life of a heretofore happy, haughty and care­ free aviator. Two weeks later, also in Widnokrqg, another poem appeared,

Maggi, a demoniac 'rhapsody' to the overwhelming, mercantile nature of the modern city (the title denotes the name of popular liquid spice, a sort of soy sauce). These two poems, initially unnoticed and at best met with indifference

83 as novelty for novelty's sake,97 marked the true beginning of Polish Futurism.

These and other poems by Jankowski, who signed his futurist texts in a truly futurist manner as Yezy Yankowski, were then collected in 1919 (dated 1920) in the only volume of his poetry and prose, which ever appeared, entitled Tram wpopszek ulicy. Skruty prozy i poemy [A Tram Akross the Street. Prose Abri- jments and Poems].98 They are now rather reluctantly admitted to the canon of Polish Futurism Qankowski has never been considered a poet of repute and even today, in the narrative that is Polish literature, he still remains a footnote rather than a part of the main text body).

He lived the way he wrote - intensely. His Bohemianism finally caught up with him. Suffering from acute alcohol addiction, in 1921 Jankowski went in­ sane and spent the rest of his life in an asylum. As a consequence, he was never able to take full part in the Futurist movement in Poland, the movement that he, in fact, singlehandedly founded and ceaselessly promoted. In 1941, he was killed by the Nazis with the phenol injection into his heart, yet another victim of the notorious Aktion T4, which targeted people with mental disabilities.

[II.11] As already demonstrated, '[i]n 1918 Polish literature was no longer re­ strained by either external or internal bonds and it acquired a new vitality. The period between the two world wars was a true literary renaissance, a time of

'(...) Jankowski's early poems were isolated and passed almost without response.' Bogdana Carpenter, The Poetic Avant-garde in Poland 1918 - 1939 (Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 1983) 3. 9 Zbigniew Jarosiriski, Helena Zaworska, op. cit., XVIII.

84 animated poetic and artistic discussion, new poetic movements and programs, and outlandish experiments in the novel and theatre.'99 The adjective "out­ landish" may well be applied to the entire campaign of Polish Futurists, their manifestoes, poetry, prose and theatre.

[ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: There was no Polish Futurist painting, or sculp­ ture per se, that experimenting role in visual arts being assumed by the Form- ists, established in 1917 in Krakow as Ekspresjonisci Polscy [Polish Expression­ ists]; then the name of the group was twice changed, first, in 1919, to Formisci

Polscy [Polish Formists - by then, they were conscious of their—very real, in fact—independence from the rest of the "Avant-garde" Europe], and shortly afterwards to, simply, Formisci [Formists, 1919 - 1924], an interesting collective known for its, quickly abandoned or radically transformed, flirtations with Ex­ pressionism, and subsequently, Cubism (painting) and Futurism (poetry and prose). The Formisci, one of the unnoticed groups of the European progressive currents (which they do not deserve) were in their best works arguably equal to the French Avant-garde of the period - Delaunay, Duchamp, Leger, Villon.

Some of their works are truly astonishing. Among the members of the Formisci the most notable (or notorious) were the brilliant philosopher, logician, math­ ematician, theoretician, painter and writer, Leon Chwistek (1884 - 1944);'°° the

99 Bogdana Carpenter, op. cit., xiii. His theory of a plurality of realities in art [the treatise Wielosc rzeczywistosci w sztuce, pub­ lished in the periodical Maski [The Masks], Nos. 1-4, between January and February 1918] was one of the most original contributions to the European 20th Century aesthetics. In it, Chwistek argued that mutually exclusive multiple realities—reality of things, reality of physical percep-

85 Pronaszko brothers (Zbigniew, 1885 - 1958 and Andrzej, 1888 - 1961), whose paintings firmly remain a part of the Polish avant-garde canon; the aforemen­ tioned Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz (Witkacy), in addition to his work as dramatist also a superb painter, novelist and philosopher (like Chwistek); the highly original sculptor, August Zamoyski (1893 - 1970, the closest to the Futur­ ist style in visual arts of them all); as well as the future Futurist (pun intended),

Tytus Czyzewski (1880 - 1945), like most of the leading Formists a true Renais­ sance man: painter, art theoretician, poet, playwright, and the Editor-in-Chief of their periodical, Formisci (1919 - 1921), in which practically all Polish Futur­ ists: Bruno Jasieriski (1901 - 1938), Stanislaw Mlodozeniec (1895 - 1959), Anatol

Stern (1899 - 1968), Aleksander Wat (1900 - 1967) published their works.]

After having left in 1914, Tadeusz Peiper, an atheist Polish Jew with both a socialist and an irredentist past, and who considered himself Polish, returned in 1921, a man bent on making his mark as a writer. His task was a difficult one.

Had he returned right after the Great War, he would have been immediately able to take part in the literary revolution which was happening right at that moment; several literary groups and orientations appearing in quick succes­ sion, sometimes simultaneously, and changing Polish literature as well as liter­ ary mentality dramatically - and forever. 'Never before,' says Andrzej Zawada,

tion, reality of senses (psychological reality), and imaginative reality, that of artistic or religious nature—co-exist and justify their projection onto, and existence of, four types of art, i.e., primi­ tive, realist, impressionist, and visionary (imaginative, experimental). See: Artur Hutnikiewicz and Andrzej Lam (Eds.), Literatura polska XX wieku. Przewodnik encyklopedyczny [Polish Literature of the 20th Century. Encyclopaedical Guide] (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN, 2000) 93.

86 'and never after there happened in the sphere of Polish culture a period of such rich literary life.'101 Peiper's late arrival was a major hindrance in the intended process of establishing himself as a force to be reckoned with. In other words, he missed a train. The only thing he could initially do was to join, and not to found, a movement, which was far cry from what he desired. In the remarks closing his collection of essays, T$dy [This Way], he describes the situation as follows, stressing out his disappointment at the rather conservative character of the occurring changes:

After my several years' compulsory stay in Spain, where I was impris­ oned first by the fronts of war, and then by the lack of money to pay for the return trip, I came back to Poland in 1921. The situation I en­ countered I could not have foreseen. The motherland was free, but it was only freedom of soil. The future, charmingly spacious, was waiting to be filled up, but only politics stepped into its heart, and merely by small steps. I was under the impression that only the old writers com­ prehended that the new situation of Poland should inspire serious changes in literary attitudes. The many signs I saw convinced me that writers such as Zeromski or Nowaczyriski awaited rapid change, break­ through, even upheaval. They expected the young to do it, because they believed in the novelty of youth. But they only listened to the first young throats that sang literature - and it turned out to be an act of self-healing, because it soon became obvious that what those first young writers wrote was not much younger than their own writings.102 They accepted this with relief, as a pleasing proof of their own, lasting importance. And save for the Pienkowski's cry, no other voice of dis­ sent would have broken the silence, had the silence not been broken by a more and more frequent knocking on the door. Round the table of literary work, [Peiper continues], chair after chair would empty; then, without asking any one's permission, new people were taking the seats. I began to distinguish their faces: Bruno Jasienski, Stanislaw Mlodozeniec, Tytus Czyzewski, Anatol Stern, Alek-

Andrzej Zawada, Dwudziestolecie literackie [Twenty Years in Literature] (Wroclaw: Wydawnictwo Dolnoslaskie, 1997) 7. Here Peiper makes a very clear allusion to the wildly successful Skamander group, whose main members, Jaroslaw Iwaszkiewicz, Jan Lechon (Leszek Serafinowicz), Julian Tuwim and Antoni Slonimski, had their debuts already during the war. Despite having lost much influence in the 1930s, the group still dominated the landscape of Polish literature until the Second World War.

87 sander Wat. One chair tripped over making another kind of noise: that was Boy [Tadeusz Boy-Zeleriski] who made room generously for Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz. A bit of independent judgement would suffice for one to realise that in these people resided a corpus of accumulated abilities which had no match in Poland at the time. And a bit of perspicacity would suffice to understand them and to appreciate everything they had to say. After my first contacts with them, I felt that at this literary juncture they were my closest allies among Polish writers. Their innovations fulfilled one of the intentions I had brought with me to Poland. Unbelievers, do not cock your eyes, do not rejoice! Although I formed my ideas abroad, they were not from abroad. I had had them in me for a long time. In my youth, I had to follow dicta of my own nature, my own instincts, in­ clinations; I had to avoid the art which was worshipped round me, in order to be able later on, in my mature years, to give birth to new thought and a new world. What I had encountered abroad only con­ firmed my intuitions. And if what I had encountered taught me a les­ son, it was a lesson different from what our domestic importers of ideas imagine. My confession may sound cocky, yet I can say that neither in Germany nor France did I want to enquire about the mystery of how great cultures emerge. Unlike many of my compatriots I did not travel to Berlin or Paris to buy some new ideas there, but to become familiar with processes of creating laboratories of ideas, and to use these ex­ periences in creating a laboratory of ideas back home. I did not want to tear down branches, I wanted to learn how the forests grow. When I returned, Witkiewicz and the Futurists gave me courage, without which my literary journey would have looked differently, per­ haps. To me, their existence was the best proof of the country's poten­ tial for renewal. In my opinion, the modes of Futurist initiatives signi­ fied deep changes within the Polish man. The surface always mimics the depths. The boldness of that group made it dear to me, and our conflicts - even dearer.103

103 Tadeusz Peiper, Tqdy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 312-313. 'Po kilkuletnim przymusowym pobycie w Hiszpanii, gdzie wi^zil mnie jako krakowianina fron wojenny, a potem brak pieni^dzy na podroz powrotn^, wrocilem do kraju w r. 1921. Zastalem sytuacje^ nie przewidywanq. Kraj by! wolny, lecz byla to tylko wolnosc ziemi. Przyszlosc, uroczo przestronna, oczekiwala wypemieri, lecz w jej wnetrze wkraczala tylko polityka i tylko krokami krotkimi. Ze z nowego losu Polski powinny wyniknac dla literatury nastepstwa zasadnicze, to, zdawalo mi si^, odczuwali najgl^biej literaci starzy, i wiele oznak sklanialo mnie do przypuszczenia, ze bardziej niz ktokolwiek inny, taki Zeromski czy taki Nowaczyiiski oczekiwali raptownej przemiany, przelomu, nawet przewrotu. Oczekiwali go od mlodych, bo wierzyli w nowosc mlodosci. Lecz zasluchali sie^ tylko w pierwsze mlode gardla ktore zblizyly sie^ do literatury, czym dokonali wobec samych siebie czynu wysoce zdrowotnego, bo, gdy wkrotce okazalo si^, ze pisarstwo tych pierwszych mlodych wcale nie jest tak bardzo mlodsze od ich wlasnego, mogli przyjac to z ulg^, jako przyjemny dow6d swej trwajacej wartosci. I procz krzyku Pierikowskiego zaden inny glos swaru nie przedzieralby ciszy, gdyby nie kruszyl jej coraz cz^stszy stuk.

88 How characteristic this passage of Peiper's writing and of his personality!

[II.12] Arriving too late to be able to stand at the helm of a movement, Peiper joined those whom he considered ideologically closest: the Futurists and Form- ists. So, initially he was very briefly associated with these two groups, in whose magazine Nowa Sztuka [The New Art, 1921-22] he participated as a member of the editorial board. Already in the 1920s and 1930s, it had been re­ peated almost ad nauseam that Polish Futurism was nothing but a derivative, mechanical, thoughtless imitation of its Russian and Italian models, more of a fashionable whim (or a whim against the current fashion), rather than a seri-

Dokola stotu pracy literackiej opadalo krzeslo po krzesle; nie pytaj^c nikogo o pozwolenie, siadali na nich ludzie nowi. Gdy zacz^lem rozrozniad twarze: Bruno Jasieriski, Stanislaw Mlodozeaniec, Tytus Czyzewski, Anatol Stern, Aleksander Wat. Jedno z krzesel opadlo ze stukiem nieco odmiennym: to Boy szlachetnie robil miejsce Stanislawowi Ignacemu Witkiewiczowi. Wystarczalo troche^ niezaleznosci s^du, aby uznac, ze w tych ludziach skupity siej zdolnosci, od ktorych wspotczesnie nie bylo w Polsce wiekszych, i wystarczalo troche; przenikliwosci, aby ich zrozumiec i docenic we wszystkich wystapieniach. Po pierwszym zetkni^ciu z nimi odczulem, ze chwila literacka czyni mi ich sposrrid pisarzy polskich najblizszymi. Nowatorswem swym spelniali jedna^ z idej, ktore wiozlem ze soba^ do kraju. Mrugacze, nie cieszcie siej moje idee, choc wiezione z zagranicy, nie byly ideami zagranicy. Mialem je juz dawno w sobie. Trzeba bylo z nakazow wlasnej natury, z odruchow, z pop^dow, stronic w latach chlopiejcych od sztuki, ktorq wokol wielbiono, aby potem w wieku dojrzalosci rodzic nowq mysl i nowy swiat. Zagranica byla dla mnie glownie swiadectwem slusznosci moich pop^dow. A jesli byla takze naukq, to inna^ niz to sobie wyobrazaja^ importerzy. Choc szumiec b^dzie moje wyznanie, nie moge; powiedziec, ze zarowno w Niemczech, jak i we Francji, badalem tajemnic^ powstawania wielkich kultur. W odroznieniu od wielu moich ziomkow, nie jechalem do Berlina czy paryza po to, aby tarn zakupic jak^s nowa^ idejk^, lecz by poznac powstawanie laboratoriow ideowych i to poznanie zuzytkowac potem w kraju przy tworzeniu krajowej pracowni idej. Nie oberwanie gal^zki bylo celem mojej podrozy, lecz wiedza o tym, jak rosna^ lasy. Gdy wr6cilem, Witkiewicz i futurysci dodali mi odwagi, bez ktorej moja droga literacka wygl^dalaby moze inaczej. Ich istnienie bralem za najlepsz^ podstaw^ odnowicielskich mozliwosci kraju. Modusy futurystycznej dzialalnosci staly mi sie^ oznakq gl^bokich przemian dokonywuj^cych sie; w polskim czlowieku. Powierzchnia jest zawsze mimika^ gl^bi. Smialosci tej grupy czynily mi ja_ blisk^, a starcia z nia_ coraz blizsza/

89 ous, legitimate striving for broadening the array of concepts within the pri­

marily conservative Polish literary landscape. Karol Irzykowski, the critic as

controversial as he was influential, lashed out the Futurists (and others, includ­

ing the Skamadrites) in his much discussed article, Plagiatowy charakter przehmow literackich w Polsce [On the Plagiarist Nature of the Literary Break­

throughs in Poland], in which a relatively small number of nattily selected ex­

amples served the author to demonstrate "plagiarist" aspects of Polish litera­

ture, apparently making frequent use of motifs and tropes found in Cocteau,

Mayakovski, Severyanin and even earlier writers.104 The feared Karol Wiktor

Zawodzinski (1890 - 1949)105 concurred, pointing to the imitative nature of

Jasieriski's poetry and naming Blake, Cendrars, Yesenin, Mayakovski and Sever­

yanin among the poets whom he followed.106 Stefan Zeromski added a stinging

gloss to Irzykowsk's argument in his essay, Snobizm i postqp [Snobbery and

Progress],107 by accusing Futurist experimentations within the language as de­

structive, and which he contrasted with the richness of the folk idiom (various

Karol Irzykowski (Zofia Gorzyna, Ed.), Slon wsrod porcelany (Studia nad nowszq myslq literackq w Polsce) / Lzejszy kaliber [An Elephant in a China Shop (Studies on the More Recent Literary Ideas in Poland) / Lighter Calibre] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1976). This is a collection of Irzykowski's articles, essays, critics and polemics which were published in maga­ zines and separate tomes during his life (d. 1944). The original edition of Slon wsrod porcelany appeared in 1934. 105 Feared more for his personal temperament and military background—he was a cavalry cap­ tain, highly decorated during the Polish-Soviet war—rather than his rigorous, indeed often un­ compromising and unforgiving, critical style. Karol Wiktor Zawodzinski, "Poezja Polski Odrodzonej" [Poetry of Poland Reborn] in: Wsrod poetow [Among the Poets] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1964) 11. See also his "Awan- garda, jej apogeum i likwidacja" [The Avant-garde, Its Apogee and Liquidation] in the same volume, 185-190. 107 Stefan Zeromski, "Snobizm i post^p" [Snobbery and Progress] in: Pisma Stefana Zeromskiego. Pierwsze wydanie zbiorowe. Utwory publicystyczne [Writings of Stefan Zeromski. First Collected Edition. Journalism] (Warszawa - Krakow: Wydawnictwo J. Mortkowicza, 1926).

90 Polish dialects), in his opinion an inexhaustible source and inspirational well of fresh lexical solutions. Experimentations were allowed insofar as they did not violate the integrity of the native tongue. Most of his selected negative exam­ ples were taken from Russian Futurism, Mayakovski the main culprit, but also from Jasiehski as an illustration of the domestic variety of the disease. The leading Skamandrite (in fact, all of the Skamandrites were generally considered

"leading"), Julian Tuwim, gloated over the demise of Futurism: 'Then, luckily,

"the Skamandrite little epigones" went on to victory and put to silence all the apostles of primitive boorishness, who wanted to urinate over Poland "in all colours" and, while "parlancing in Sarmatian," planned to "farspread loft- herapy,"' and eventually, he continued, '"polluted the young poetry of the inde­ pendent Poland."'108

Zbigniew Jarosihski disagrees: 'Oftentimes, critics wrote that Polish Futur­ ism was a belated phenomenon. It does not seem to be true. Yes, it surfaced later than Italian and Russian Futurism, but if it had emerged a few years earlier, it would have probably remained an ephemeral literary fashion. Yet it became an all-encompassing artistic movement, something socially important

Julian Tuwim, "Odpowiedz recenzentom" [My Response to the Critics] in: Wiadomosci Literackie, 1937, No, 47: '"Skamanderskie epigonczyki" zwyci^zyty wowczas na szcz^scie i zmusiry do milczenia apostolow gradiuszczego chama, ktorzy zamierzali obsikac Polske^ "we wszystkich kolorach" i "parlowacac sarmaceniem" "porozwszechniac wzdaleczenia."' The famous Futurist manifesto (in the form of a leaflet), Nuz w bzuhu [The Nyfe in the Stomak, Krakow-Warszawa, November 1921] began with the joyful desire: 'We wan' to piss IN OLL KOLORS!' [Hcemy szczac WE WSZYSTKIH KOLORAH!} These expressions ("parlancing in Sarmatian" and "farspreading loftherapy") are attempts to translate Polish Futurist neologisms into acceptable English approximations.

9i and causing fierce debates, for in Poland the issues it addressed assumed actu­ ality exactly in the early 1920s.'109

One may easily oppose Jarosihski's optimistic statement. After all, Polish

Futurism was much shorter-lived than the older, Italian, Russian or Ukrainian, branches of the movement, and yet as voraciously impatient and aggressive in the act of building its own legend - it is easy to see now why to some it did look like it was 'an ephemeral literary fashion,' artificially sown on Polish literary soil. Also, if truth be told, what does not seem accurate is to maintain that

Polish Futurism 'became an all-encompassing artistic movement, something socially important.' Controversies it did cause, discussions it did instigate, pub­ lic disturbances it did inspire110 - but it would be far-fetched to attribute to it

Zbigniew Jarosinski, "Wst^p" in: Eadem, Helena Zaworska (Eds.), Antologia polskiego futuryzmu i Nowej Sztuki, op. cit., LXXXII: 'Wielokrotnie pisano..., ze futuryzm polski by! zjawiskiem spoznionym. Nie wydaje si$ to jednak prawd^. By! pozniejszy niz futuryzm wloski i rosyjski, ale gdyby pojawil sie^ o pare^ lat wczesniej, pozoztalby zapewne efemeryczn^ moda^ literackq. Jezeli stal sie^ calym ruchem artystycznem, czyms spolecznie waznym i budzacym gwattowne kontrowersje, to dlatego, ze problematyka, kt6r^ przynosil uzyskala w Polsce prawdziwq aktualnosc wlasnie w poczatku lat dwudziestych.' For instance, in Warsaw on 11 December 1919, Stern was arrested and spent time in prison, for committing "blasphemy" during his earlier performance in Wilno/Vilnius, on 15 and 16 November of that year. Several distinguished writers, including Waclaw Berent, Juliusz Kaden- Bandrowski, Leopold Staff, Stefan Zeromski as well as the Skamandrites, wrote a letter of pro­ test on Stern's behalf. The latter was only cleared of charges on 14 January 1922. See: Zbigniew Jarosinski, "Wstej/ in: Eadem, Helena Zaworska (Eds.), Antologia polskiego futuryzmu i Nowej Sztuki, op. cit., XXXIX. Those "blasphemous" lines which so horrified the audience and the press are found in Stern's Usmiech Primavery [The Smile of Primavera] and go as follows: And God himself, bowing like a lackey, Will serve me in state In a wine glass on a golden plate Aromatic and full-bodied Tokay. In Polish: A na tacy zlotej Z uklonem sam Bog, jak lokaj, Aromatyczny, soczysty W kieliszku poda mi tokaj.

92 some disproportionately huge influence on Poland's artistic community and society en masse.

What Oleh Ilnytzkyj says about the Ukrainian Futurists could be applied to the Krakow Avant-garde, not to the Futurists in Poland. In the young Soviet

Union art was, to a great extent, a matter of ideology. Therefore, the progress­ ive (Soviet) artists, including the Ukrainian Futurists, almost invariably associ­ ating themselves with the radical Left, were required by the circumstances to reveal, motivate and justify their goals, their aesthetics and their social raison d'etre in a precise and ideologically convincing manner, although often, it must be admitted, they were not free from youthful dash, panache and exuberance, so irritating to their adversaries. To them, facing the increasingly brutal force of the totalitarian system, it was of great importance to be intelligible at least in their theoretical statements. In the end, it was all about survival, physical sur­ vival that is, no longer the aesthetic one.111 'No literary group of the 1920s,' says

Ilnytzkyj, 'devoted more attention, nor attached greater significance, to theo­ retical pursuits than the Futurists. This tenacious determination to articulate a systematic vision of art and culture sometimes gives the impression that theorizing about art was almost as important to the futurists as creating it.'112

'The 1930s, of course, were not just a disaster for the Futurists. They were a tragedy for many writers and for all of Ukrainian culture... When writers, like Mykola Bazhan, turned to writing odes to Stalin during this terrible period, they were no longer engaged in literature but in the art of survival... [I]n 1937 both Semenko and Shkurupii, the "king of the Futurist prairies," died before firing squads. Ironically, among Shkurupii's last published words were these: "Our cre­ ativity is prospering like exuberant flowers, for it is guided by the hand of our Party.'" Oleh Il­ nytzkyj, Ukrainian Futurism, 1^14-ig^o. A Historical and Critical Study, op. cit., 178. Ibidem, 181.

93 'The Futurists expected,' continues Ilnytzkyj, 'naively in retrospect, that a ra­ tionally articulated theory would convince politicians to elevate avant-garde principles to the level of official policy. Futurist theorizing, in short, had a messianic element.'"3

To return to Jarosihski's affirmative appraisal of Polish Futurism (which was

"messianic" but not as well versed in formalist theory as the Ukrainian, and which was its inherent weakness, despite some scattered articles of a less cha­ otic nature than the Polish Futurist manifestoes themselves): although its de­ tails may be reinterpreted and objected to, in principle his evaluation of the movement was accurate. Polish Futurism exploded creatively exactly when the literary scene in Poland needed it to join the fray. Its project—the wholesale overhaul of the basic philosophical, aesthetic, cultural and social notions of art, associated with the heretofore unbroken tradition, understood in evolutionary rather than revolutionary terms—proved inspirational and, to some extent, highly productive."4 Polish Futurism offered a number of corrections to the model established by the Italians, Russians, and Ukrainians. It demonstrated remarkable distaste for the Italianate worship of violence, war, chauvinism and rampant nationalism; it was (only cautiously) appreciative"5—and at the same time mistrustful—of modern technology (as already shown in Jankowski's po-

Ibidem. "4 Anatol Stern, "Niezwykla historia polskiego futuryzmu (1918 -1968)" [The Extraordinary His­ tory of Polish Futurism (1918 - 1968)] in: Gtod jednoznacznosci i inne szkice [The Hunger for Univocality and Other Sketches] (Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1972) 255. 115 Helena Zahorska, "Futuryzm i jego ideologia" [Futurism and Its Ideology] in: Glos Narodu [The Nation's Voice], 1924, No. 216.

94 etry, clearly ambiguous in this regard); it centred its conceptual initiatives and creative efforts on making art available to the masses and making artists a part of the communal wholeness (the mass itself), suppressing their individualism for the sake of anonymity (here, Polish Futurists polemicised with their Russian counterparts, namely Mayakovski, accusing them of being too prone to suc­ cumbing to individualism, egomania);116 it gradually introduced strong Leftist topoi into Polish letters, as well as fresh modes of looking at the peasant class and its social, historical and cultural ethos (in Jasienski, Mlodozeniec); it unab­ ashedly got hold of subjects which before were treated with restrain: sexuality

(often vulgar), eroticism (even in its most disgusting forms),"7 religion; it also aimed at creating a new, dynamic poetic language, permeated with loose syntax and humorous, playful lexical figures taken from everyday language,118 slang, local—both urban and rural—dialects, and was oblivious to classical narrative forms and genres (although the Futurists did write odes, ballades and culti­ vated simple strophic forms)."9 And although this multipronged attack at the literary convention lasted only four years (1919 - 1923), it gave impetus to both the conservative and Avant-garde camps for rethinking their condition and re­ spective positions. Surprisingly perhaps, quite a few literary works from the

116 Cf. Edward Balcerzan, "FUTURYZM" in: Artur Hutnikiewicz and Andrzej Lam (Eds.), Literatura polska XX wieku. Przewodnik encyklopedyczny, op. cit., 179-180. 117 One of Jasieriski's poems, opening his But w butonierce [Boot in the Buttonhole, Warszawa- Krakow, 1921] begins with this, rather chilling, description of erotic experience: 'While kissing the ulcerous lips of my syphilitic lover it is good to listen to the sharp song of trams driving by...' [Calujac owrzodzone pake mojej syfilitycznej kochanki dobrze jest sluchac ostrego spiewu mijajacych tramwajow]. Bogdana Carpenter, The Poetic Avant-garde in Poland 1918 -1929, op. cit., 64. 119 Ibidem, 179.

95 Polish Futurist period have entered the canon of Polish literature (regardless of

which period we may consider), and quite a few of them (often almost untrans­

latable due to their experimental vocabulary) would enrich that of World Lit­

erature, especially its modern chapters. It is beyond dispute that works such as

Alexander Wat's Ja z jednej strony i Ja z drugiej strony mojego mopsozelznego piecyka [I On One Side and I on the Other Side of My Puglron Stove, 'pub­

lished in the autumn of 1919 (and inscribed with the date 1920)']12° as well as his

namopaniki [insistopanics, 'inspired by the zaum poetry created by the Russian

futurist poet Velimir Khlebnikov'121 (in Russian: BeTiHMHp X/I&SHHKOB)] should

be earnestly deemed as prefiguring Surrealism. The same pioneering position

is allotted by the contemporary Polish literary scholarship to poems by

Jasiehski (Piesri o glodze - The Song About Hunger), Stern, and Mlodozeniec,

the latter particularly inventive in his explorations of provocative (in the tradi­

tional sense of the word) syllabic and rhythmic combinations, not to mention

typography enhancing the perceptual experience (as in the famous poem,

Moskwa [Moscow, 1921], clearly indicating, as do the namopaniki, his strong

Dadaist affiliations).

Ibidem, 65. Ibidem, 75. 'Zaum [3ayMb or 3ayMHbiH H3WK (zaumnyi yazyk), the term invented by another Russian poet, Aleksei Eliseevich Kruchenykh, in Russian: AfleKceft EnnceeBMH KpyneHbix; P. G- M] was based exclusively on the sound value of words and consisted entirely of neologisms.' Ibidem. 96 [II.13] Peiper soon developed his own theory, largely at odds with the tenden­ cies represented in writings by the Futurist, traditional (pro-Romantic, pro- folkloric), Classicist (Skamander) and some Expressionist critics (periodicals

Czartak, Ponowa).122 The sixth and final issue of the first series of Tadeusz

Peiper's Zwrotnica [The Switch] offered an examination of the Futurists' achievement and its analytical evaluation. There, Peiper published one of his seminal texts, Futuryzm (analiza i krytyka) [Futurism (Analysis and Cri­ tique)].123 Jasieriski added an overview of Polish Futurism.124 There were also original contributions from Marinetti (Przyjaciohm z "Zwrotnicy" [To My

Friends in "Zwrotnica"]125 and Czyzewski (Moj futuryzm [My Futurism]).126 The two texts by Peiper and Jasieriski, in which, generally, negative critiques domi­ nated the argument (Peiper's critique severe, Jasiehski's almost sentimental), mark the end of Polish Futurism. Here, of singular interest is Peiper's text, as the one subjecting the competitive orientation to a exceptionally thorough, in- depth assessment, still valid after all the years that passed since its first appear­ ance in print.

Peiper begins... from the beginning, with an enumeration of the Italian and

Russian Futurist principles, which he succinctly elucidates. He distances him­ self from these principles, pointing out their destructive character, which re-

Stanislaw Jaworski, "Przedmowa" [Foreword] in: Tadeusz Peiper, Tqdy, Nowe usta, op. cit., 7- 10. 123 Zwrotnica, No. 6, October 1923,162-172. 124 Ibidem, 177-184. 125 Ibidem, 161. Ibidem, 185-186.

97 duces the concept of life into the most ordinary, primitive aspects. However, he also sees in Futurism a creative force, 'a powerful force of rebirth,' which may lead to positive transformations in social life, morality, and culture.

'Those who are capable of marshalling facts,' he says, 'ought to notice that our

[Polish] futurism should be placed on that rebellious line of anti-Romantic op­ position, which historic events have long ago begun to draw in our conscious­ ness. In our Futurism there is both understanding and approbation of new, worldwide cultural values, which after 1863 [the fall of the January uprising] were defended by Positivism. There is in it the apology for temporalness and for the code of deed, which were developed by Wyspiariski. There is in it will to power, with which Staff came forward.'127 Clearly, Peiper recognises

Polish Futurism as a phenomenon both new and continuing certain traditions, namely Positivist and Modernist. He appreciates these attributes of the move­ ment. Furthermore, he does not try to hide his indebtedness to Marinetti, who

'taught us what are self-confidence and creative blasphemy. He cut the umbilical cord with which we were tied to the womb of epochs past, and in­ serted into our mouths the full breasts of reality, which surrounds us. It is his

Ibidem, 164. 'Ci, ktorzy umieja^ szeregowac zjawiska, powinni dostrzec, ze nasz futuryzm nalezy umiejscowic na buntowniczej linii opozycji anty-romantycznej, kt6r^ wypadki historyczne juz dawno rozpoczejy kreslic w naszej umystowosci. Jest w nim zrozumienie i aprobowanie nowych ogolnoswiatowych walorow kulturalnych, ktorych po roku 63 bronil u nas pozytywizm. Jest w nim apologia doczesnosci i kodeksu czynu, ktorq rozijal Wyspiaiiski. Jest w nim wola sity, z kt6rq wystapit Staff.'

98 great historic contribution.'12 However, this enthusiastic tribute soon gives way to a rather harsh critique, as concurrently Peiper does not hesitate to level a polemic with Marinetti's incorrect, and in the end harmful, aesthetic stance.

He criticises negatively Marinetti's fetishisation of the machine, which should not be treated as an idol ('god Apis'), but only as an 'elongation, continuation of man' ['Maszyna jest dalszym ciqgiem czlowieka']. 'It is not matter that is of interest to us in an engine, it is man' ['W motorze interesuje nas nie ma­ teria, lecz czlowiek'], says Peiper, explaining that it is truly impossible to el­ iminate man from literature: 'what will always interest man the most, is man'

['Czlowieka zawsze interesowac b^dzie czlowiek'], which then leads him to accusing Futurism of destroying syntax and narrative logic. 'Without syntax we can only create an inventory of the world, but never will we be able to render life' ['...bez sktadni mozemy co najwyzej sporzadzic inwentarz swiata, ale nigdy nie zdolamy oddac zycia swiata']. This is precisely why the literary work of art needs logic, order, and needs to focus on grammatically proper sen­ tences as carriers of meaning. The literary work of art emerges through both elimination of undesired elements and composition. And therefore, Futurist aesthetics is flawed and unacceptable from the point of view of what modern literature in general, and poetry in particular, may require. Thus, Peiper does away with Futurism. The movement had its positives, yet at present, literature

Ibidem. '[Marinetti] nauczyl nas co to jest wiara w siebie oraz tworcze bluznierstwo. Przeciql p^powin^, ktora^ przywiazani bylismy do tona epok minionych, i dal nam w usta wezbrane piersi rzeczywistosci, ktora nas otacza. To jego wielka historyczna zasluga.'

99 and visual arts call for other solutions more appropriate in regards to actual social and cultural demands. To sum up, Peiper's article is a rather cold fare­ well to Futurism and those with whom he at some point launched his cam­ paign to reform Polish poetics.

[II.14] The frontline was finally drawn: that separating Peiper's Zwrotnica and the Krakow Avant-garde from the Skamander group, the two main poetic fac­ tions (survivors of the early literary struggle for primacy) that from then on dominated Poland's literary life. It was an unequal battle, or, rather, a long- drawn and hard-fought campaign, but in the end the David of the Krakow

Avant-garde defeated the Goliath of the Skamander group, albeit posthu­ mously.

Who were the Skamandrites? According to Barry Keane, the author of the first, and excellent, critical study on Skamander written in English,129 'The

Skamander poets - Jan Lechoh [b. Leszek Serafinowicz, 1899 - 1956], jaroslaw

Iwaszkiewicz [1894 - 1980], Julian Tuwim [1894 - 1953], Kazimierz Wierzynski

[1894 - 1969] and Antoni Slonimski [1895 - 1976] - are arguably the most im­ portant group of writers belonging to the era of inter-war years."30 These five, as well as some of their - usually very talented - satellites, founded a tradition,

129 He calls them 'Skamanders,' which to my ears does not sound right, does not sound elegant enough. Therefore, here they are referred to as Skamandrites, or Skamandrite poets. My Hcen- tia poetica. Barry Keane, Skamander. The Poets and Their Poetry igi8 - igig (Warszawa: AGADE, 2004), ix. The dates do not appear in the original text of the quote.

100 still cultivated in Poland, of poetry informed by the curious mixture of Classi­ cist (or neo-Classicist) and Romantic ideals. Not arguably are they important!

- they are still considered THE most important and influential poetic collective during the years 1918 - 1939. This they did - and did not deserve. They de­ served it for they started very early, around 1916, ahead of any of the previously discussed literary groups, and immediately felt the pulse of the times, slowly reaping the fruits of irredentist efforts, and expressing that pulse in their, in­ itially wholeheartedly positive, optimistic, even enthusiastic, poetry (with just a few exceptions). They deserved it for their personal brilliance (sense of hu­ mour, among others; also, due to their political sympathies some of the

Skamandrites became high-ranking state officials) and craftsmanship: their po­ etic versatility, i.e. incredible familiarity with the Polish and European past lit­ erary tradition (idioms), and the resultant lexical and syntactical virtuosity

(some of their pastiche poetries - like Tuwim's - are unsurpassed to this day), placed them effortlessly at the helm of the progressive Polish poetics. They de­ served it because at the beginning they were open-minded, collaborating with the Expressionists and Futurists alike (not infrequently all three orientations were confused with one another), contributing to the emergence of a new liter­ ary paradigm, which would prevail in Polish poetics until the appearance of the

Krakow Avant-garde (and even later). They deserved it because their conta­ gious optimism gave the readers a very strong desire to follow current poetry and prose (how often is THIS a case today?) in order to find a valid interpreta-

101 tion of what was happening in the newly re-found land (and outside its bor­ ders), and giving the most acute actual problems a positive response. In a sense, the Skamandrites were the new Romantics who, nonetheless, substi­ tuted Romantic "whining" with playfulness and joy of living in an independent and victorious (Polish-Soviet war) country.

They may not have deserved it for all the above reasons either, but - more importantly - for their slavish attachment to the values which, so acutely ana­ lysed by Peiper in several texts, ultimately proved destructive, pursued short­ sightedly. Says Keane:

'[T]heir early poetry collectively greeted with joy, though also with a certain muted trepidation, the return of Poland's independence in 1918. For Poland, however, the years of celebration soon gave way to the everyday realities of economic, social and ideological struggles, not to mention the later looming shadow of fascism and eventual Nazi inva­ sion of Poland. For this reason, history has judged the Skamanders' early hopes of a new beginning for Poland as over-optimistic and, per­ haps worse, over-simplistic. These are the judgements of many of Po­ land's contemporary poets and critics - although, one would have to say that they have benefit in this instance of both distance and the lapse of time.'131

Sure enough, but Peiper's severe evaluation of the Skamander group is as valid as it was during his most visionary creative period - bitter, negative.132

And justified, as some of the Skamandrites became servants of the new, totali­ tarian system after 1945 (the ridiculously passive and cooperative Iwaszkiewicz is a case in point and also, to a certain extent, Tuwim and Slonimski, although

131 Ibidem. 132 Vide his article, "Iwaszkiewicz idjota" [That Idiot Iwaszkiewicz] in: Zwrotnica, 1923, No. 4, 93; also: "Poeci bez idei poetyckiej" [Poets Without Poetic Ideas] in: Wiek XX [20th Century], 1928, No. 4 (22 April), quoted in: Tadeusz Peiper, Tedy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 277-281.

102 the latter after his return to communist Poland, did become a member of the

Polish intellectual resistance).

[II.15] Being one of many was not what Peiper really wanted to accomplish.

Gradually, he began to assume the role in which he saw himself right from the start - that of a leader. And hence his decision to establish a tribune for the new poetic and artistic ideas.133 In 1922 he was ready. It is then that Peiper published his first poems and laid foundations for his theories. This opposition to the traditional school of thinking resulted in a series of articles and essays which he embarked on publishing as of May, 1922 in his own magazine Zwrot- nica, his major editorial achievement, today unanimously considered the most important avant-garde publication in Poland between 1918 and 1939.

Bogdana Carpenter describes this process succinctly:

As Polish futurism was coming to an end, a new group of poets formed in Cracow, to be known in the history of Polish literature as "The Cra­ cow Avantgarde." Its strong orientation towards progress and civiliza­ tion made it appear at first as a continuation of futurism, but in fact its interest in formal issues and its constructivism put it in opposition to futurism. Before these differences became crystallized, the futurists and Tadeusz Peiper, who was to become the main theoretician of the Avantgarde, collaborated in a short-lived magazine with the all- embracing title, the New Art. Two numbers appeared, in November 1921 and in February 1922, and they can be seen as a transition between futurism and the Cracow Avantgarde. The first editorial article stressed the elements common to both groups: opposition to the preceding movements of symbolism, impressionism and naturalism, the desire for new art to be innovative, the rejection of logic, and the search for a new kind of metaphor... At the same time, the poets who published in the New Art were almost without exception all futurists—Wat, Stern,

Tadeusz Peiper, Tedy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 314-315.

103 Jasienski, Czyzewski—and their poetry was in contrast to the theoreti­ cal orientation of the magazine. Similar eclecticism and hesitation, typical of a period of transition, characterized the first series of Zwrotnica (The Switch), the magazine of the newly formed Cracow group. The Switch was published in two se­ ries, the first comprising six numbers published between May 1922, and October 1923; the second, published after a three-year interval in 1926 and 1927, also had six numbers. In addition to being "the forge of the Polish avant-garde" as some critics called it, the Switch open its pages to many poets and art theoreticians whose premises were akin to those of the Cracow Avantgarde only in the most general way, often negative rather than positive... The artistic heterogeneity was especially true of its first series, where the overwhelming majority of authors belonged to artistic groups or movements other than the Cracow Avantgarde. The poet Tytus Czyzewski, the art theoretician and philosopher Leon Chwistek, the famous playwright and theorist Stanislaw Ignacy Wit- kiewicz, the sculptor August Zamoyski, were all associated with form- ism. The poets Stanislaw Mlodozeniec, Bruno Jasienski, Anatol Stern, and Aleksander Wat were futurists... Peiper, the founder and editor of the Switch, dominated it. It was owing to him that the Switch pre­ served a unity despite the diverse aesthetic attitudes of its various con­ tributors; he was the soul of the magazine, the author of all its pro­ grammatic and most important theoretical articles.134

Peiper, as Aleksander Siapa tells us, 'was not only a writer, creator of a literary programme, and theoretician of new literature. As well, he was a publisher, editor-in-chief, make-up editor who developed Zwrotnica's (typo)graphic image, distributor and reseller. In addition to the Zwrotnica, he also published volumes of his own and his colleagues' poetry. He personally promoted and sold them. Everything he did, beginning with the graphic design, was as care­ fully thought through and effective, as the form of his poetry and his pro­ gramme were precise and effective. For almost ten years of Peiper's avant- garde activities, I had been invariably amazed by the logic of his argument and by the integrity of his personality in all its aspects: in his theories and outlook,

Bogdana Carpenter, The Poetic Avant-garde in Poland igi8-igjg, op. cit., 79-80.

104 his manners, intonation of his voice and his restrained gesticulation. One could sense that Peiper kept his distance, but this was offset by the graceful­ ness emanating from him."35

This is confirmed by Marian Piechal: '[I was introduced to Peiper] in 1929.

It is just impossible to describe his physiognomy and charming manners. He simply enchanted with the finesse of his conversation, and it has to be emphas­ ised that the ever-changing emotion of his eyes; his agile facial expression and movements of his lips; every suspension of his voice or change of its intonation; every motion of his hands, every time he opened them or clenched his fists, contributed to raising the temperature of the discussion and enforced the im­ pact of his words, whose suggestiveness it was out of the question to try to re­ sist. To part with Peiper without having been entirely convinced by his argu­ ments was impossible. Therefore some deliberately avoided him. He either captivated or indisposed people towards himself. One had to become either his follower or his enemy. He always had to be the centre of attention, or, ra­ ther, not he - but his point of view on art and the world."36

Aleksander Slapa, "Oczami ksi^garza" [From the Bookseller's Perspective] in: Kornel Filip- owicz, Kazimierz Bidakowski (Eds.), Cyganeria i polityka [The Bohemians and Politics] (War- szawa: Czytelnik, 1964) 12-13. 13 Marian Piechal, Zywe zrodta [The Living Sources] (Warszawa: Ludowa Spoldzielnia Wydawnicza, 1985) 369. '[...[W] roku 1929, poznalem takze i ja Tadeusz Peipera.] Nie sposdb opisac fascynujacej jego fizjonomii i ujmujacego sposobu bycia. Urzekal zas wprost finezja^ prowadzonego z rozmowca^ dialogu, przy czym zmienny co chwile^ wyraz oczu, ruchliwa mimika ust i calej twarzy, zawieszenie glosu lub jego podniesienie, gest re^ki wreszcie, zwarcie lub rozwarcie dloni podnosiry temperature i dobitnosc slow, ktorych sugestia byla nieodparta. Niepodobieristwem bylo rozstac sie^ z Peiperem nie b^dac przez niego zupelnie przekonanym. Totez niektorzy z rozmyslem go unikali. Zniewalal albo odstr^czal. Trzeba bylo zostac jego zwolennikiem albo przeciwnikiem. Zawsze musial bye osrodkiem zainteresowania - nie on, lecz jego pukt widzenia sztuki i wspolczesnosci.'

105 Adds Zygmunt Lesnodorski, who knew Peiper in the 1920s and 30s: 'Peiper did not appropriate the title of "commander-in-chef." He emphasised that it was not his ambition to command. Above all, he wanted to persuade: "not just with his articles but also with his mug."

'He liked to officiate in a cafe/37 always surrounded by his adherents, over black coffee, sometimes over a chessboard, although he used to say that the only game worthy of intelligent person was a friendly conversation. Decidedly

Mediterranean looks: dark complexion, black and dark blue curly hair, also the beard, which he brought from Spain, but later shaved, leaving the moustache.

He conversed, or, rather, delivered his speeches energetically, in an interesting and brilliant way. But any discussion was a priori eliminated. He deeply be­ lieved in his infallibility, other people's opinions "as such" were of a very little interest to him. He did not try to feign modesty: "[N]obody knows poetry bet­ ter than I," he wrote in the introduction to the complete edition of his poems,

"and from the depths of my knowledge I assure you I am giving you poetic works which belong to the best the present time has to offer."138 This double

Jan Brz^kowski informs that Peiper's favourite coffeehouses were the famous "Esplanada," then "Udzialowa" and the Bisanz Cafe, later also Kawiarnia Plastyk6w [Artists' Cafe]. Jan Brz^kowski, "Garsc wspomnieh o Peiperze" [A Handful of Memories About Peiper] in: Poezja, Year VI, No. 3(52), March 1970, 7. .-,0 Tadeusz Peiper, "Przedmowa" [Foreword] to Poematy, op. cit., 30. 'A jednak nikt nie zna sie^ na poezji lepiej ode mnie i z glebi tej wiedzy o rzeczy zapewniam was ze dajej warn utwory, ktore naleza do najlepszych jakie stworzyla wspolczesnosc. Kiedy indziej nie napisatbym tego, dzis pisze/ See also Chapter IV.

106 megalomania was fully accepted by those persons who, as he wrote, "believed in and loved his poetry more than everything else."'139

Jalu Kurek gives an account similar to Lesnodorski's: 'Pleasant, compact fig­ ure of a Frenchman or an Italian, dark complexion, his dress showing noncha­ lant elegance of a Paris Bohemian; pitch-dark eyes, thick hair, black moustache trimmed like a brush. Brilliantly intelligent.'140

Tadeusz Klak justly remarks that Peiper's elegant, conventional appearance was in opposition to the extravagant bearing of the Futurists, making him look similar to the less nonconformist literati and normal citizens. No wonder then,

Klak says, that his younger colleagues were often critical of Peiper; they recog­ nised his "otherness." Some of them, such as Adam Wazyk, who obviously could not forgive Peiper for his "old-fashioned" dress and physical appearance as well as his elegant way of addressing interlocutors, perceived him as an al­ most anachronistic phenomenon!141

Peiper's future biographers, if any, will have a mountain to climb before they are able to piece together the very limited available data on the personal side of his existence - virtually next to nothing is known about his private life.

There are two photographs extant, which show Peiper in female company.

Both Peiper and his partners captured in these photographs must have been

Zygmunt Lesnodorski, Wsrod ludzi mojego miasta. Wspomnienia i zapiski [Among the Peo­ ple Of My City. Memoirs and Notes] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1968) 314. 140 Jalu Kurek, Zmierzch natchnienia. Szkic o poezji [The Twilight of Inspiration. Sketches on Poetry] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1976) 175. 141 Tadeusz Klak, Stolik Tadeusza Peipera. O strategiach awangardy [Tadeusz Peiper's Table. Sketches on Avant-garde Strategies] (Krakow: Oficyna Literacka, 1993) 34.

107 pretty close, for they hold hands; one of the partners even embraces him. Jan

Brz^kowski mentions a certain Ms. B., with whom Peiper had a relationship, but admits to the absolute lack of a more detailed knowledge of the 'purely personal' sphere of Peiper's life.142 Apparently, the poet was always on guard there, adamant in protecting his privacy. That he disliked the institution of marriage, that he was a bit of a misogynist (or, perhaps better, a bit of a male chauvinist), that he tended to treat the female body as an object of pleasure - is, given the content and tone of some of his poems and the novel, Ma lat 22, obvious. He was a man the modern feminist critics would love to hate. On the other hand, several poems of his belong to the most beautiful examples of a highly charged, beautiful, sensitive, wise and 'thrilling' erotic poetry.143

[II.16] The writer's oeuvre (and especially what he wrote and published prior to

1939) does not constitute a massive body of work, yet it is sizeable enough to disavow once and for all any accusations of his supposed "laziness."144 The edi­ tion of his works, spanning over three decades of Stanislaw Jaworski's impec­ cable editorial effort (Tadeusz Peiper. Pisma [Writings], Krakow: Wydawnictwo

Literackie, 1972-2004), comprises seven volumes:

• Volume One containing his two major theoretical writings, i.e. Nowe usta

142 Jan Brz^kowski, "Garsc wspomnieri o Peiperze," op. cit., 7. 143 Andrzej K. Waskiewicz, W krqgu „Zwrotnicy," op. cit., 64. Wiestaw Pawet Szymariski, Neo- symbolizm. O awangardowej poezji polskiej w latach trzydziestych [Neosymbolism. Studies on Avant-garde Polish Poetry in the 1930s] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1973) 81-82. 144 Zygmunt Lesnodorski argues that the real value of Peiper's output is reversely proportional to the slim size of it. Ibidem, 319. See also Chapter III.

108 [The New Lips] (1925) and Tedy [This Way] (1930) ;145

• Volume Two featuring his collected critical articles, essays as well as inter­

views he had given between 1918 and 1939, i.e. O wszystkim ijeszcze o czyms

[Of Everything And More];146

• Volume Three presenting his two novels, i.e. Ma lat 22 [He Is Twenty Two]

(1936) and Krzysztof Kolumb odkrywca [Christopher Columbus, Discoverer]

(i949);147

• Volume Four incorporating his collected poetic writings consisting of four

slim books of poetry,148 i.e. A (1924), Zywe linie [Living Lines, 1924], Raz

[Once, 1928], Na przyklad [For Example, 1931]149 and his stage works, i.e.

three plays: two original works, Szosta! Szosta! [It's Six! It's Six!, 1925] and

Skoro go nie ma [Since He's Not Here, 1933], and a relatively late translation

of Lope de Vega's Pies ogrodnika [The Gardener's Dog, 1956; original title El

perro del hortelano; Peiper's last creative effort to have been published dur-

Published in 1972. Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), Tedy. Nowe usta [This Way. The New Lips] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie 1972). 14 Published in 1974. Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), O wszystkim ijeszcze o czyms [Of Everything and More] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie 1974). This volume includes a number of texts hitherto unavailable in print. 147 Published in 1977. Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), Ma lat 22. Krzysztof Kolum odkrywca [e Is Twenty-Two. Christopher Columbus, Discoverer] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Lit­ erackie 1977). Published in 1979. Tadeusz Peiper (Andrzej K. Waskiewicz, Stanislaw Jaworski, Eds.), Poe- maty i utwory teatralne [Poems and Stage Works] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1979). The 1935 edition of Poematy/Poems only included slightly revised versions of earlier poetic works.

H9 Y^ voiume a[so includes miscellaneous poetic fragments and numerous translations, mainly from Spanish and French, dispersed until then (1979) in literary and artistic magazines, or existing in manuscripts only.

109 ing his lifetime150];151

• Volumes Five and Six, Wsrod ludzi na scenach i na ekranie [Among People

on Stage and Screen], Vols. I & II, offering his reviews of and essays on the­

atre and film, written and (few of them) published after 1942;152

• Volume Seven, Gabriela Zapolska jako aktorka [Gabriela Zapolska as Ac­

tress], written in the late 1950s (the last significant work which he finished)

and being an extensive study on the legendary playwright and actress and

her performing techniques.153

[II.17] Peiper's activity ended roughly at the outbreak of World War II. In Sep­ tember 1939 Peiper, a member of an old assimilated Polish-Jewish family, Left­ ist and patriot who had good reasons to fear Nazi persecution/54 escaped to the

Soviet Union where, as a result of a provocation, he spent some time in an

NKVD (from which the later KGB evolved) prison, brutally interrogated and deprived of his writings, this time confiscated by the Soviet authorities. Ar­ rested in January 1940 (along with Wladyslaw Broniewski, Anatol Stern and

Bogdana Carpenter is obviously only partially correct when she states that after the Second World War Peiper was only active as a theatre critic (cf. Bogdana Carpenter, The Poetic Avant- garde in Poland igi8-igjg, op. cit., 96. 151 Published in 1979. Tadeusz Peiper. Poematy i utwory teatralne (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Lit- erackie 1979). Published in 2000. Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), Wsrod ludzi na scenach i na ekranie [Among People on Stage and Screen], Vols. I & II (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 2000). 153 Published in 2004. Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), Gabriela Zapolska jako aktorka [Gabriela Zapolska as Actress] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 2004). 154 Shortly before the war, Peiper published an article, "Odglosy sprawy Gornego Slaska" [The Resonance of the Affairs in Upper Silesia] in: Zaranie Slqskie [The Silesia Dawning], 1938, No. 1, in which he criticised the attitudes of the German leaders towards the region.

110 Aleksander Wat, all of them radical Leftist poets already before the war),

Peiper was later let free because... he happened to know Mayakovski person­

ally!155 He was indeed very fortunate to have survived.156 It was during this

time of personal trial that he contracted persecution mania. Much has been

made by Polish literary historians of Peiper's (mild) mental condition, but prac­

tically none of them has ever found it necessary to show the immediate con­

nection between the torture to which Peiper was subjected in the Soviet Union

and his gradual withdrawal from public life after the Second World War. Ac­

cording to members of his family, this withdrawal resulted as much from the

illness as from his growing dissatisfaction with the state of affairs in Commu­

nist-controlled Poland. Well-known, for example, are his violent verbal polem­

ics with the literary members of the Polish Communist elite, including the

revolutionary lyricist, Wladyslaw Broniewski (1897 - 1962). After the war,

Peiper, dispossessed of his property by the new administration, settled in War­

saw. He grew increasingly uncomfortable with the aesthetic directives of the

new regime and, apart from a 1949 novel Krzysztof Kolumb odkrywca, and a

1956 translation of a Lope de Vega play, Pies ogrodnika, he did not publish any­

thing significant. Moreover, he categorically forbade publishing even those

Stanislaw Jaworski, "Nota biograficzna" [Biographical Note] in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), Tqdy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 422. 15 A number of ideologically radical Polish writers who emigrated to the Soviet Union even before the war, perished during the 1930s Stalinist purges. Especially telling is the fate of the three well-known former Futurists and Communist writers, Jasieriski, Wandurski and Stande who, like their Ukrainian counterparts Semenko, Shkurupii, Slisarenko and Shpol (all of whom died in 1937), were murdered there. See Oleh Ilnytzkyj. Ukrainian Futurism, 1914-1930. A His­ torical and Critical Study (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press 1997).

111 works which had appeared in print before the war. Yet he kept writing until the very end. Tadeusz Peiper died in Warsaw on 10 November 1969, the direct cause of his death being pneumonia.

112 III. That Hymn of Silk - Towards the New Poetic Diction

Today, when I am sending my poetry on its last journey, I cannot refrain also from performing the last rites for it. If I say that I am following the hearse sadly, I understate.

Tadeusz Peiper'

[III.i] A quote will open the discussion: 'Tadeusz Peiper's extreme intellec- tualism changes his poems into constructs, which require preparation and a key to decipher these cryptograms. If poetry depended on intellectual satisfac­ tion arising from solving such tasks, his work would make sense... Having set himself against imitators, Tadeusz Peiper, the founder and publisher of Zwrot- nica, propagated creative and individual exploration of the ideas first found among the futurists and formists.'2 The quote is from the 1930 comprehensive study, Wspoiczesna literature polska [Contemporary Polish Literature], auth­ ored much earlier by Wilhelm Feldman (1868 - 1919) and brought up to date in its eighth edition by Stefan Kolaczkowski (1887 - 1940). Apart from incorrectly assigning Peiper to two different camps the poet had very little to do with

(both of which had little to do with one another), Kolaczkowski makes a state­ ment which is strangely relevant to any discussion on Peiper's poetry, the am-

"Przedmowa" [Foreword] to Poematy [Poems], 1935. Quoted after Poematy i utwory teatralne [Poems and Theatrical Works] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1979), op. cit., 25. [All translations by P. G-M unless indicated otherwise.] Wilhelm Feldman (and Stefan Kolaczkowski), Wspoiczesna literatura polska [Contemporary Polish Literature] (Krakow: Krakowska Spotka Wydawnicza, 1930) 664-665. 'Skrajny intelektualizm Tadeusza Peipera przemienia jego poezje w konstrukcje, wymagajace przygotowania i klucza do odczytania tego szyfrowanego pisma. Gdyby poezja polegala na intelektualnym zadowoleniu z rozwiazywania postawionych zadari, bylaby ta dzialalnosc celow^... Tadeusz Peiper, zalozyciel i wydawca "Zwrotnicy", przeciwstawiajac sie^ nasladownictwu, propagowal tworcze i wlasne wydobywanie wartosci z fururyzmu i formizmu...'

113 biguity here being the accusation of excessive intellectualism on one hand (as if only those who are not intellectuals were able to write well, or, rather, as if only simplest poetic forms, free from complexity, were of any value) and appreci­ ation of the poet's individualism on another. Such a dichotomous view of his ceuvre would affect a great number of interpretative studies on Peiper and the avant-garde right from the beginning of his creative and theoretical work. The

"cryptographic" simile turned out to be quite attractive and popular: 'The very first impression after having read these verses is that here we deal with riddles, and the author is a riddler... It looks as if he was telling us: "Guess what I wanted to say, and you shall learn interesting things." The crux of the matter is that after having guessed, the reader does not learn anything interesting. The whole challenging depth is here created by employing complex metaphors to describe visible objects. The author carefully avoids calling things by their proper names, he only goes round and round them. This has got to be his

"pseudonyming" [technique]. Peiper's elevation of metaphor reminds one of the period of linguistic purism in France, when words such as teeth were avoided as vulgar and replaced by, say, "furniture of the oral cavity.'"3 This is

3 Wladyslaw Sebyta, "Poezje" in: Pion, No. 3 (Warszawa: 1936) 6. Pion appeared between 1933 and 1939. 'Pierwsze wrazenie po przeczytaniu tych wierszy - to, ze mamy do czynienia z szaradami, a autor jest szaradzistq... Wygl^da to jakby mowil: "Zgadnij, co ja chciatem powiedziec, a dowiesz sie^ ciekawych rzeczy". Cala rzecz w tym, ze czytelnik po odgadni^ciu nie dowiaduje sie_ niczego ciekawego. Cala problematyczna gl^bia polega na opisywaniu widzianych przedmiotow w zawifych przenosniach. Autor starannie unika nazywania rzeczy po imieniu, kr^zy tylko kolo niej. To ma bye "pseudonimowanie". Ta wznioslosc metaforyczna Peipera przypomina okres puryzmu j^zykowego we Francji, kiedy unikano takich powiedzeh jak zqby itd., jako wulgarnych, a zastpowano je np.: "umeblowanie jamy ustnej".' It seems Sebyla did not make, or did not want to make, a distinction between metaphor and metonymy.

114 from the 1936 review by Wladyslaw Sebyla (1902-1940, captured by the Soviets in 1939 and then killed by the secret police NKVD, most likely during the hor­ rid Katyh massacre), which appeared in the pro-government weekly, Pion [The

Plumb] some time after the first edition of Tadeusz Peiper's collected poems, the Poematy, was issued in 1935.

On another occasion, this time in Rocznik Literacki [The Literary Year­ book], Sebyla, himself a poet of note,4 chastised Peiper as follows: 'True poetry, like each true beauty, has that which arrests our attention, something which coerces us into contemplation, even if we do not entirely comprehend it, or if we do not entirely grasp the poet's creative intention. Peiper's "poetry" excites other emotions: it either makes us impatient or wanting to try to translate it into some intelligible language... [T]he difficulty of solving the Peiper meta­ phors does not repay the effort, nor does it encourage any further contempla­ tion; it only results in our shaking heads at the strange, crooked world the author conveys to us...'5

Before that, in 1933, the well-known poet, critic and Christian philosopher,

In 1938, awarded the Golden Academic Laurel by the Polish Academy of Literature. Idem, "Sprawozdanie za rok 1935 w dziedzinie liryki" [The Report for 1935 in Poetry] in: Rocz­ nik Literacki [The Literary Yearbook], No. 3 (Warszawa: Instytut Literacki, 1935) 44. Rocznik Literacki was published between 1933 (covering literary production of 1932) and 1939 (covering 1938). See: Jerzy Kadziela, Jerzy Kwiatkowski, Irena Wyczanska (Eds.), Literatura polska w ok- resie miedzywojennym [Polish Literature in the Interwar Period], Vol. I (Krak6w: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1979) 334-337 (Pion) and 432-436 (Rocznik Literacki). 'Prawdziwa poezja, jak kazde pi^kno ma w sobie cos zastanawiajacego, zmuszajqcego do kontemplacji, nawet jesli sie^ jej na razie nie rozumie, czy nie ogarnia calkowicie zamysru tw6rczego poety. "Poezja" Peipera budzi uczucia zupemie inne: albo zniecierpliwienie, albo proby przetlumaczenia na jakis zrozumiafy j^zyk... [T]rud rozwiklania przenosni peiperowskich nie oplaca si^, nie sklania ku dalszej kontemplacji, lecz doprowadza do pokiwania glowa^ nad przedziwn^ koslawosci^ przedstawien ukazywanego nam przez autora swiata.'

115 Boleslaw Micinski (1911-1943), published a nasty (there is no other word for it)

review of the Antologia poezji spolecznej [The Anthology of Social Poetry], which he tellingly entitled Peiperyzacja czy pauperyzacja intelektualna? [Intel­

lectual Peiperisation or Pauperisation?].6 Micinski stated bluntly that many of

the poets included in the anthology 'had as much to do with aesthetics as

"peiperism" did with poetry.' Was Micinski biased? After all, he, a Catholic

who at some point collaborated with the radical right-wing weekly, Prosto z

Mostu,7 might have been prejudiced towards the leftist, sometimes even revo­

lutionary, poets who rejected the Christ for the sake of Marx - and if not Marx,

then at least for the sake of a socialist, or social-democratic, "red" ideology.

Plausibly, Micinski could have held a grudge against the proverbial "unsavoury

bunch" of poets to whom the Pilsudski Poland did not appear as social para­

dise. As Janusz Kryszak asserts, Micinski was not alone in questioning Peiper's

aesthetic stance - as well as his view of the world, i.e. his ideological principles,

which seemingly absorbed the young poets included in the aforementioned an­

thology. Even if their poetry did not comply with Peiper's aesthetics (and in

most cases it did not), to Micinski, a conservative through and through (and

not only to him), "peiperism" denoted a "model" danger zone (or one of many

Boleslaw Miciriski (Anna Micinska, Ed.), Pisma: Eseje, artykuly, listy [Writings: Essays, Arti­ cles, Letters] (Krakow: Znak, 1970) 280-284. 7 The literal English translation: "straight from the bridge" does not make any sense. The title translates best as "straight from the shoulder," which the Polish "prosto z mostu" actually means. The weekly appeared between 1935 and 1939, progressively drifting to the extreme, na­ tionalistic and totalitarian, right. It was indeed ironic that one of its main contributors, Jan Mosdorf (1904-1943), died in a concentration camp (Auschwitz), a hero of the anti-Nazi Polish resistance. Jerzy Kadziela, Jerzy Kwiatkowski, Irena Wyczariska (Eds.), op. cit., 343-346.

116 such zones), where the proven and well established fashions of reasoning and

behaviour were disappearing, confronted by new ethics, as signified in the new

poetry.8 However, Micihski was not biased in the sense of what had been—and will have been—said about Peiper. Apart from the ethical aspect of Peiper's work, in general his poetry was often seen as an illustration of his theoretical

paradigm. As Kryszak demonstrated, one could compile an impressive list of

simplistic invectives addressing Peiper and his poetic craft, but it must be re­

membered that their offensive, contemptuous tone would not be the harshest

in Peiper's eyes. What he loathed most was accusations of his poetry's being

derived from what he wrote as a literary critic, of its being "nothing but."

Peiper explains at length:

I published my first poems in Zwrotnica - under a pseudonym. After­ wards, when my pseudonym was deciphered, people began sniffing around to find out why I used it. One of the reasons was simple: because I was both the editor and publisher of Zwrotnica and because I carved its profile through sub­ stantial articles on art, I elected to use a nom de plume in order to avoid being overrepresented and ever-present. The second reason... I have never said anything about it to any one... The second reason... Some strange kind of modesty.9 Some strange kind of modesty was stopping me from publishing these poems under my real name, because whatever poetry may be, it always reveals its author's most personal experiences. In the course of time, I then became skilled at impudence, without which a poet cannot live, but in the beginning it was all different... Under these circumstances my enemies profited, as did my friends, the latter strikingly resembling the former. They tried to make others believe that since I did not sign my poetry with my name, I considered it less important than my articles, or unimportant at all. There were those who, puzzled by my use of a pen name, tried to explain that it

8 Janusz Kryszak, "Poeta 'urojonej perspektywy' - Tadeusz Peiper" [The Poet of Delusionary Perspectives] in: Irena Maciejewska (Ed.), Poeci dwudziestolecia miedzywojennego, op. cit., 59- 61. 9 Here Peiper uses the very rare word 'pudor,' which comes from French: pudeur = modesty.

117 was my mystification to demonstrate that in the unknown author, Jan Alden, the editor found a supporter and practitioner of his views. Then, when they learned who that Jan Alden was, they thought they solved the puzzle: "Peiper writes poetry to illustrate his theories." [...] I cannot ignore this interpretation of my poetic work, if only be­ cause it has continued until the present day, also in relation to the whole group of poets who have followed me. But no, dear sirs, no! My poetry was not born to illustrate my "theory." I did not offer my first substantial text on poetry (Nowe usta) until after my first two volumes were published. Also, those two volumes had been preceded by many, many years of poetic work. People who talk about my inclinations to "illustrate" my literary criticism by means of poetry do not know what life is, and what poetry is when it becomes life. To reach into one's own tender depths; to examine the darkest layers within oneself; to discover the currents nobody had yet seen; to say things nobody had yet said; to undertake the work against which internal resistance rages - and to do it all not for the sake of the cause alone? Without belief in the magni­ tude of that cause? Hey, people, are you horrible in your interpreta­ tions of man! On the contrary! My articles on poetry but served my poetry. They were neither a "theory," nor a "doctrine," nor a "recipe." They were meditations and exhortations of a person who felt he set his foot on an important path. It is obvious that these meditations and exhortations stroke more than one spark of poetry. Naive are those who imagine that a poet works the same way as eyes produce tears, that is without any co-participation of intellect and will. Yes, there are humbugs who uphold such fancies, but one does not have to take them into account. Meditating on poetry and then shaping up the results of such medita­ tions into ideas - this is an integral part of poet's life. If life were given to a writer in order for him to write about it, then meditations on lit­ erature are also life... Understand, please: my poetry was first!10

Tadeusz Peiper, "Przedmowa" [Foreword] to Poematy, op. cit., 25-27. 'Drukowalem pierwsze moje utwory w „Zwrotnicy" - pod pseudonimem. Gdy potem moj pseudonim zdemaskowano, zacz^to dow^chiwac sie^ przyczyn, dla ktorych go uzylem. Jedna z przyczyn byla prosta: poniewaz sam bylem redaktorem i wydawca^ „Zwrotnicy" i postac jej obrysowywalem obszernymi artykulami o sztuce, wi^c, aby redagowanego i wydawanego przeze mnie pisma nie przeladowywac swoim nazwiskiem, kladlem pod utworami poetyckimi pseudonim. Druga przyczyna... Nigdy o niej nie mowilem nikomu... Druga przyczyna... Jakis pudor. Jakis pudor wstrzymywal mnie od oglaszania poezji pod prawdziwym nazwiskiem, bo czymkolwiek bylaby poezja, zawsze jest ujawnianiem najbardziej osobistych przezyc autora. Bieg rzeczy uczyl mnie potem stopniowo bezwstydu, bez ktorego nie ma zycia poety, ale poczatkowo... Korzystali z tych okolicznosci wrogowie i hidzaco do nich podobni przyjaciele. Wmawiali w siebie i w innych, ze, skoro mojej poezji nie podpisuj^ prawdziwym nazwiskiem, to znaczy iz mam J4 za mniej wazna^ od moich artyku!6w lub w ogole za niewaznq. Byli tacy, kt6rzy zagadkowe dla nich pseudonimowanie usilowali ttomaczyc mistyfikacjq redaktora, pragnaxego wywolac wrazenie ze w nieznanym autorze, Janie Aldenie, ma juz zwolennika i realizatora

118 [III.2] This was to no avail, as most critics paid no heed. Says Czesiaw Milosz:

'The editor of The Switch [Zwrotnica], Tadeusz Peiper, influenced many of the young more by his uncompromising articles than by his poetry, which is inter­ esting only as an example of unflinching attachment to principles.'11 Bogdana

Carpenter is of the same opinion: 'Although Peiper wrote voluminously on theory, he wrote surprisingly little poetry. Despite this disparity in volume, there is a very close correlation between Peiper's aesthetic theory and his poetic practice—indeed, the convergence between the two is so complete that it gives rise to the suspicion that either the theory was created to provide commentary on the poetry, or the poetic practice was an illustration of the theory. Regard­ less of which point of view is correct, the interdependence of the two had im-

swoich pogladow. Potem, gdy juz dowiedziano sie^ kim jest Jan Alden, osadzono, ze zagadke^ rozwiazano: „Peiper pisze poezje, aby ilustrowac swe teorie". [...] Interpretacji ilustratorskiej pominac nie mogej, juz chocby z tego powodu, ze utrzymuje sie^ ona do dnia dzisiejszego, i to w zastosowaniu do calej grupy poetow ktora wyszla ze mnie. Otoz nie, panowie, nie. Moja poezja nie rodzila sie^ dla ilustrowania mojej „teorii". Pierwsz^ moJ4 wypowiedz o poezji („Nowe usta") dalem po opublikowaniu dwoch tomikow, a przecie przed tymi tomikami mialem za soba wiele wiele lat poezjowania. Ci ktorzy mowia^ o owym ilustratorstwie, nie wiedza^ co to jest zycie ludzkie i co to jest poezja gdy jest zyciem czlowieka. Si^gac w swe tkliwe gl^bie, wydobywac ze siebie najbardziej mroczne warstwy, odkrywac nurty kt6rych nikt dotad nie nie widzial, mowic rzeczy ktorych nikt jeszcze nie powiedzial, podejmowac prace^ przeciwko ktorej sroza siej m^czace opory wewn^trzne, i czynic to wszystko nie dla samej waznosci sprawy? nie z wiary w jej ogromnosc? Ej, ludzie, potworni jestescie w waszych interpretacjach czlowieka. Bylo wr^cz przeciwnie! Moje artykuly o poezji sluzyry mojej poezji. Nie byry ani „teoria" ani „doktryna" ani „recepta". Byry rozmyslaniami i nawofywaniami czlowieka, ktory czut ze stoi na waznej drodze. Oczywista ze z tych rozmyslan i nawotywari wykrzeszaia sie^ dla mnie niejedna iskra poezji. S4 naiwni, ktorzy wyobrazaj^ sobie ze poeta tworzy w taki spos6b w jaki oczy wydzielaja^ Izy, tj. Bez udziatu mysli i woli, i sq blagierzy ktorzy te wyobrazenia podtrzymuja, ale wolno nie brae tego w rachub^. Rozmyslania o poezji i ustalanie ich wynikow w ideach o poezji to skladowa cz^sc zycia poety. Jesli zycie pisarza istnieje dla pisarza po to aby mogl o nim pisac, to rozmyslania o literaturze sq tez takim zyciem. [...] Zrozumiejciez: pierwszym byla moja poezja!' Czesiaw Milosz, The History of Polish Literature, op. cit., 402.

119 portant consequences for the evolution of Peiper's poetry, and was probably

responsible for the deadlock that arose in 1929."2

Presented by the modern Polish literary critic (albeit based in the United

States), this point of view is fascinating in that it illustrates well a propensity—

obviously hard to resist even today—to perceive theory and practice as two dif­

ferent, rather incompatible, aspects of the literary genus. Its predicament

might be expressed thusly: poets who also "flirt" with theory expose them­

selves to critical scrutiny, in the process of which either their respective cre­

ative imaginations, or their respective investigative methodologies, suffer ques­

tioning. Linguistic entities are here perceived as devoid of their dialectical

ability to 'coming into discourse.'13 Such a position—a position negative in the

tenor of its assertions, and, one way or another, relegating the creative theo­

retical act into the background—is very likely of Romantic provenance, the al­

ready quoted Mickiewicz well-known couplet from the ballade Romantycznosc

[The Romantic, 1822] being no more than a poetic precis of this argu­

ment: 'Faith and love are more discerning / Than a wise man's lenses or learn­

ing.'14 Bogdana Carpenter concludes: 'With Peiper the theory of construction

had been pushed to and beyond its limits. By stressing the antirealism of the

poem's frame of reference, by affirming it need have no basis or analogy in the

12 Bogdana Carpenter, The Poetic Avant-garde in Poland 1918-1939 (Seattle and London: Univer­ sity of Washington Press, 1983) 94. [In 1929 the much discussed collection of Peiper's poems, Raz [Once], was published.] 13 Paul De Man, The Resistance to Theory (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1986) 19. 14 In Polish: 'Czucie i wiara silniej mowi do mnie / Niz m^drca szkieloko i oko.' Translation based on Milosz, op. cit., 213.

120 recognizable world, and by pushing it beyond the boundaries of human psy­

chology, he cut the theory off at its roots. He was an extremist, perhaps a fa­

natic, but it was his own poetry that suffered most of all. The theories re­

mained, coherent, full of interest, Peiper's main achievement. Others were able

to make fruitful use of them, and the best poetry was written by other members

of the group [the Krakow Avant-garde].'15

But those "other members of the group," Jan Brz^kowski, Jalu Kurek and

Julian Przybos, also lived "double lives" similar to Peiper's. It is true that his

concepts initially attracted them much—to the extent of their being labelled

his "school;" in the end they came down history as the "Krakow Avant-garde,"

understood as an alliance of four experimenters who followed (at least in the

beginning) similar creative principles—and that his Zwrotnica had quickly be­

come their learning ground. Yet what's more, it is true that both Brz^kowski

and Przybos, not to mention Adam Wazyk (although the latter must not be

identified with the Krakow Avant-garde group as its founding member and full-

fledged participant; his connection to the other four was of a much more com­

plex—much more loose!—nature)/6 were later particularly keen on developing

their own theories and conducted rigorous theoretical and critical work

throughout their careers, at some point inevitably in opposition to Peiper.

Somehow, all that critical and theoretical effort on their part did not affect the

15 Carpenter, op. cit., 110. Andrzej K. Waskiewicz, W krqgu „Zwrotnicy". Stadia i szkice z dziejow krakowskiej Awangardy [The "Zwrotnica" Circle. Studies and Sketches on the History of the Krakow Avant- garde] (Krakow - Wroclaw: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1983) 262-293.

121 quality of their artistic endeavour as it supposedly did Peiper's? This would be,

it appears, a rather distorted interpretation. Most probably, it all comes down to the manifestly stereotyped—or perhaps credulous—reading, perception and

evaluation of the individual, separate chapters in the oeuvre of the Krakow

Avant-garde, where Peiper's poetry is frequently deemed to replicate his theory

to the point of enslavement, which apparently deprived it of its grammatical,

rhetorical, and logical relevance to the receivers ("average" readers) who find

themselves trapped in the interpretative fear. Such a standpoint may well be

understood as being itself a consequence of anxious prejudices - the poet be­

comes a victim of reductionist applications which misplace his aesthetic in

comparatively alien territories: 'Peiper's approach towards the poetic language:

artless, constructivist, excessively chiselled and confectionary, turned out to be

anachronistic in relation to its contents, which poetry did not want to, and

could not, avoid. Would it ever be possible for [Tadeusz] Rozewicz to employ

Peiper's idiom to say: "Led to slaughter / I survived"?'17 The excerpt implies

that Tadeusz Rozewicz's ascetic, sometimes minimalistic narrative style is in its

expressive articulations superior to Peiper's imagined verbosity, or, as Karol

Irzykowski would have said, "verbosis". But it was, it appears, a curious choice

of analytical methodology which led to such dramatic declarations, and a

Bogdan Czaykowski, „Poetyka Peipera - uwagi krytyczne" [Peiper's Poetics - Critical Re­ marks] in: Oficyna Poetow, (London, UK) 1968, No. 4 (11) 12. 'Rzemieslniczy, konstruktywistyczny, w practice jubilersko-cukierniczy stosunek Peipera do j^zyka poetyckiego okazal sie^ anachronizmem wobec tresci, ktorych poezja nie chciala i nie potraftta uniknad. Jakzesz bo mial Rozewicz powiedziec j^zykiem Peipera: „Ocalaiem prowadzony na rzez". The quoted Rozewicz line is from the poem Ocalony [The Survivor].

122 sweeping and dangerous generalisation, which ignored:

1) the psycho-temporal gulf between two distinct personal and professional ex­

periences, their different, to refer to Umberto Eco, existential credentials, their

sense of individual conditioning, cultural values, tastes, personal inclinations

and prejudices; in a sense, the author of the above statement compared apples

to oranges: one could certainly accuse, say, Mallarme's poetry of not being on

par with Rozewicz's because of the former's lexical opulence;

2) the multifarious nature of Peiper's poetry, in which along the exceptionally

refined (aestheticising), formally elaborate and metaphor-laden poems there

exist others, which impress with their compressed, lean syntax, often employed

to excellent effect in conveying, among others, impatient brutality of greed or

sexual desire - so often found in Rozewicz;

3) Peiper's power of imagination which, combined with his craftsmanship (at

its best - virtuosity), allowed him to produce a great deal of excellent verse, in­

cluding Na plaiy [On The Beach], to which the legendary Polish literary theore­

tician, Janusz Slawihski, refers as 'likely the most interesting achievement of

Peiper's, and generally one of the best erotic poems in avant-garde lyric po­

etry.'18

4) the very simple fact that, quite possibly, there would not be Rozewicz with-

,0 Janusz Slawiriski, "Poetyka i poezja Tadeusza Peipera" [Tadeusz Peiper's Poetry and Poetics] in: Tworczosc, Year XIV, June 1958, No. 6, 76-77. Bogdan Czaykowski's refernce to Peiper's po­ etry as 'artless, constructivist, excessively chiselled and confectionary' is taken almost verbatim from the Slawiriski article, where it appears with much less accusatory—more descriptive than accusatory—intent on page 73.

123 out Peiper, without Peiper's late poetry which so radically did away with lexical complexity for the sake of quasi-documentary, matter-of-factly precision,

clarity and gallows humour for which Rozewicz is widely appreciated;19 it does

not really matter that Rozewicz's lines are shorter;

5) the pronounced, albeit sometimes indirect, influence Peiper's poetics came to exercise both on his contemporaries before and then on several generations

of poets after the Second World War, on the one hand including the "pimply

ones" (an allusion to their young age marked by acne), whose poetry published

between 1948 and 1951 had anticipated the inescapable arrival of socialist

realism,20 and on the other hand the socially conscientious representatives of

the "New Wave," who had begun publishing in the mid-1960s.21

[III.3] The abovementioned interpretative fears resonate loudly in that space of

Karol Irzykowski's critical reflection, which he allotted to a polemic with

Peiper. Along with Tadeusz Boy-Zeleriski (1874 - 1941, executed in Lwow/Lviv

by the Nazis), to whom he devoted a libellous critical work, Beniaminek [One

Spoiled Brat, 1933] and Adolf Nowaczyriski (1876 - 1944), Karol Irzykowski (1873

9 Wieslaw Pawel Szymariski, Neosymbolizm. O awangardowej poezji polskiej w latach trzydzi- estych [Neosymbolism. Studies on Avant-garde Polish Poetry in the 1930s] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1973) 100-102. The refreshingly unorthodox and highly inspiring readings of Peiper's theoretical and poetic oeuvre are among many strengths of this excellent book. However, Szymanski is cautious and warns against drawing too far-reached analogies between Peiper and Rozewicz, demonstrating certain similarities - as well as major differences between the two. Slawiriski, op. cit., 71. Pawel Majerski (Ed.), Uklady sprawdzen (w kregu Nowej Fali) [Test Sets (All Round the New Wave)] (Katowice: Wydawnictwo Slask, 1997); Bozena Tokarz, Poetyka Nowej Fali [The Poetics of the New Wave] (Katowice: Uniwersytet Slaski, 1990).

124 - 1944' another victim of the war) was arguably the leading and most re­ spected—and, as the other two, frequently reviled—literary critic of the inter- war period. A significant, if falling short of being considered magnificent, tri­ umvirate of three complementary rhetorics: the progressive (to some: radical) rhetoric of the scandalising Boy-Zeleriski, the archconservative rhetoric of the

offensive and at times virulently anti-Semitic Nowaczynski, and with them -

the consciously and persistently independent22 (but not impartial) rhetoric of

the energetic and philosophically inclined Irzykowski.

Already beginning in 1908, Irzykowski, later one of Peiper's main critics and

polemicists, had in the course of thirty years written a number of texts, chiefly

analyses and polemics, in which he fought against what he considered un­

necessary poetic obscurity. Two of them are of particular interest, for they

focus on Peiper's avant-garde aesthetics and subject it to punctilious examin­

ation: Metaphoritis i zlota plomba [Metaphoritis and the Gold Filling], an ex­

tensive postscript to an earlier essay, Zdobnictwo a poezji. Rzecz o metaforze

[Ornamentation in Poetry. Reflections on Metaphor], both published in Part III

of his Walka o tresc [The Struggle for Content, 1929],23 and Burmistrz marzeri

'He published... in various periodicals, which sometimes differed in their political orienta­ tions as well as in their literary qualities. This he did deliberatelyin order to—as he used to say— "reduce to absurdity when in truth it is all about things literary...'" Wojciech Giowala, "Wst^p" [Introduction] in: Karol Irzykowski (W. Giowala, Ed.), Wybor pism krytyczno- Hterackich [Selected Critical Writings] (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, Gdansk: Zaklad Naro- dowy im. Ossolihskich, 1975) IV. Karol Irzykowski (Andrzej Lam, Ed.), Walka o tresc. Studia z literackiej teorii poznania / Beniaminek. Rzecz o Boyu-Zelenskim [The Struggle for Contents. Studies on the Literary Theory of Cognition / One Spoiled Brat. On Boy-Zeleriski] (Krakow, Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1976).

125 niezamieszkanych [The Burgomaster of Vacant Dreams, 1931/34] - likely two most important (or at least best known) critical studies on Peiper's work until well after the Second World War.24

In the first essay, Irzykowski examines Peiper's technique, calling him the

'true experimenter and martyr of the metaphor.'25 Peiper, Irzykowski main­ tains, takes on hard, ambitious and risky tasks, but errs and the final results are questionable. 'In his [Peiper's] Zywe linie [Living Lines]26 a woman's calf is called "that hymn of silk above sweet cruelty."27 It is the evidence of the poet's stay in Spain, where the piropos originated.28 The poem Pod dachem ze smutku

[Under the Roof of Sadness] begins with: "Hungry, the sky sat down on the ground - a mouse resting on a sigh." We speak of a mouse in a box, so why not a mouse on a sigh - it is probably intended to denote an incredibly delicate and trembling touch. This I can still endure, but it gets more difficult when the

First published in Wiadomosci Literackie [The Literary News], No. 1,1931. Then included in the 1934 book of essays, Ston wsrod porcelany (Studia nad nowszq myslq literackq w Polsce). Karol Irzykowski (Zofia Gorzyna, Ed.), Siori wsrod porcelany (Studia nad nowszq myslq literackq w Polsce) I Lzejszy kaliber [An Elephant in a China Shop (Studies on the More Recent Literary Ideas in Poland) / Lighter Calibre] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1976). 5 Karol Irzykowski, Wyborpism krytycznoliterackich, op. cit., 262. Tadeusz Peiper, Zywe linie. Poezje [Living Lines. Poems]. With drawings by Juan Gris. (Krakow: Zwrotnica, 1924). Excerpted from one of Peiper's most famous poems, Noga [Leg] in: Tadeusz Peiper (Andrzej K. Waskiewicz, Stanislaw Jaworski, Eds.), Poematy i utwory teatralne (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1979) 71. Piropos (singular: piropo) are very short, single-line poetic addresses to women, whose pur­ pose is to facilitate flirtation. According to Peiper („Z kraju slonej Wenery" [From the Land of the Salty Venus], Kurier Poranny [The Morning Courier], No. 244, Krakow 1929) they were sold in the form of small printed leaflets to men who were not able to come up with their own well composed compliments. Stanislaw Jaworski rightly observes that Irzykowski's remark is typical for those critics who tried at any cost to find outside influences in Peiper's poetry within his texts, instead of looking for such influences, if any, elsewhere, at their presumed sources. Tadeusz Peiper, Poematy..., op. cit., 663.

126 poet, dreaming of the repose which awaits him, says: "The evening... will throw my tongue to the bottom of my lower jaw and knock off my head, which pul­ sating, hissing and swearing is already slipping down on my boots."29 [...]

"Naked breast" (of a woman who appeared at night in an illuminated window)

[Irzykowski's explanation] "fluttered in my pocket like a banknote" - it means that the poet confined this image of the naked breast in his memories, that he

stole it - as he later admits. "I look, shivering I put out [the] eyes" (his own, of

course) [Irzykowski's malicious comment, one of the trademarks of his often

ironically stinging, critical style] "and on knives' blades I sent them for the

naked breast."30 Where are those knives from? Are they the same which he

used to put out his eyes? These are already personal associations, to the under­

standing of which we have no key; it is a silence of gold caused by the gold fill­

ing (100%) .31 What strikes in Peiper is metaphors running wild. One is not en­

ough for him, from that one he derives another, and from that second one, the

third - these are metaphors squared, cubed etc... Indeed, it is a self-contained,

autogenous literary reality, exceeding to a colossal degree the content's actual

29 The quote again taken from Pod dachem ze smutku [Under the Roof of Sadness] from Zywe linie in: Tadeusz Peiper (Andrzej K. Waskiewicz, Stanislaw Jaworski, Eds.), Poematy i utwory teatralne, op. cit., 69. Selected from the poem Chwila ze ziota [A Golden Instant] from the volume Raz. Poezje [Once. Poems] (Warszawa: Ksi^garnia F. Hoesicka, 1929); Tadeusz Peiper (Andrzej K. Waskiewicz, Stanislaw Jaworski, Eds.), Poematy i utwory teatralne, op. cit., 86-87. 31 Irzykowski's metonymy, the "gold filling" standing for metaphorical excess of avant-garde ("futurist") poetry, which suffered from what he calls metaphoritis, a sickness unto metaphors, and whose meaning is kept hidden the same way one who has gold fillings tries not to open her or his mouth too wide. In the same paragraph Irzykowski (again!) talks about avant-garde po­ etry offering "riddles" to its unfortunate potential receivers. Karol Irzykowski, Wybor pism kry- tycznoliterackich, op. cit., 258-259.

127 need. Ancient poetics called such accumulation and coupling of metaphors catachresis [KcraxxpnaicJ and allowed the use of this device to express great affectation, in which one seeks to enunciate one's feelings - and goes astray. In Peiper's verse... I call it metaphoric tautology...'32

In the second essay in question, the more important of the two, Burmistrz

marzen niezamieszkanych [The Burgomaster of Vacant Dreams], Irzykowski

goes even farther in poring over Peiper's aesthetics and praxis. Time and again

he does it jokingly, ever with his typical good-natured malice (which is not ab­

sent from Peiper's own writings...). Irzykowski rightly observes that what

Peiper postulated in relation to the role of present day topics as sources of in­

spiration in contemporary poetry, and to the resultant function of metaphors

within poems—these metaphors best suited to building new aesthetic realities

which in turn project unto physical reality, the technology-driven world—was

often overstated by the poet in order to defend his arguments against other

"trendy" concepts: 'it was necessary for him to exaggerate his postulates against

the opposing fashion.' This, presumably, made Peiper's poetry so outlandish

and hardly adequate to the original aim for the "new beauty." What's more,

Irzykowski takes this opportunity to target Peiper's poetry by way of delivering

a broadside against his 'Socialist confession of faith:' '[Peiper] is also a socialist

d la lord Wilde. Characteristic in this regard is his heartfelt poem Wyjazd

niedzielny [Sunday Outing] from the volume Raz [Once]. The poet went out on

32 Ibidem, 262-264.

128 an excursion and is having a veal cutlet (with red beets and compote) in a sub­ urban restaurant. However, suddenly the jobless come to his mind as well as a pertinent slogan: "cutlets for all mouths!" - and he is tempted to grab the cutlet

by the bone like a "red flag" attached to a "flagpole not from a ballad" and

Raise it up! inspire shivers in nocturnal distances! drive it into the hour which bleeds the daily wound! carry it through roads bent by the ageless hump, through cities...

But I ate my veal cutlet.33

'Much good may it do him! And then, later, he need not feel the "bitter

sting of blades in [his] guts," for he ought to revisit his own article Zoiqdek a

kultura [Stomach and Culture]:34 "Good, regular dinner menu... releases con­

quering energies, which lead to well-being, and the latter, in turn, leads to ele­

gance, art and altruism (the hungry do not think of the other hungry)..."35 In

my opinion, it is an example of how far an intellectual can go when possessed

by slogans, despite his internal doubt and caution... The crux of the matter is

The original in Polish goes as follows:

Zzz! chwycic to zebro, drzewce nie z ballady, ktore plat ciel^ciny zmienia w sztandar rudy! wzniesc w powietrze! rozbudzic dreszcz dali wieczornej! wbic w godzine^ ktora jest krwiq calodziennej rany! niesc przez drogi, ktory wykrzywia garb wiekowy, przez miasta [...]

A jednak zjadlem moj kotlet ciel^cy.

Tadeusz Peiper, Wyjazd niedzielny in: Poematy i utwory teatralne, op. cit., m-112. There are small, unimportant differences between what Irzykowski quotes and the final version of the poem. It is not clear whether Irzykowski quotes an earlier, unrecorded version, or commits a mistake (on occasions he trusted his memory too much). 34 Tadeusz Peiper, "Zoiqdek a kultura" [The Stomach and Culture] in: eadem, Tqdy. Nowe usta, 99-103. 35 Ibidem, 100.

129 this: Peiper's poetry is essentially artificious, "literary..." Peiper's compromise is very interesting: basically, he tries to convince himself and others that his arti­ ficious poetry is at once socially conscientious. He does to his form what he did with his cutlet: turns it into a flag.'36

[III.4] It will be interesting to see if Irzykowski's irony was justified, especially given his strategy of ironising over quotes taken out of context. Peiper's poem

Noga [Leg], to which the critic made his first allusion, is a very good point of investigation. Noga belongs to the hotly debated group of those works which, due to their narrative complexity, usually engenders much controversy. The poem is deceptive in that on the surface it ostentatiously limits its subject mat­ ter to the human limb, a woman's leg, which it praises in a series of highly so-

Karol Irzykowski, "Burmistrz marzeri nie zamieszkanych" [The Burgomaster of Vacant Dreams] in: Jan Zygmunt Jakubowski (Ed.), Polska krytyka literacka (igi8-ig^g) [Polish Literary Criticism (1918-1939)] (Warszawa: Paristwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1966) 34-35. 'Nie S3 to jednak rzeczy straszne; cze^sto byry zapewne dyktowane koniecznosci^ wyjaskrawienia swych postulatow wobec mody przeciwnej. Zresztq autor sklada w tej ksiazce przeciez takze swoje socjalistyczne wyznanie wiary. Jest tez socjalistq a la lord Wilde. Pod tym wzgledem characterystyczny jest jego serdeczny utwor Wyjaz niedzielny (w zbiorku Raz). Poeta wyjechal na wycieczk^ i w podmiejskiej restauracji je kotlet cielejcy (z buraczkami i kompotem). Lecz na mysl przychodzq mu bezrobotni i haslo: „wszystkim ustom kotlet!" - i rad by schwycic sw6j kotlet za zeberko jak „rudy sztandar", osadzony na „drzewcu nie z ballady"... [an excerpt from the poem is here quoted; see footnote 33] Niech mu be^dzie na zdrowie! I niepotrzebnie pozniej odczuwal „w kiszkach msciwe klucie ostrz", bo m6gl sobie przeczytac sw6j wlasny artykul Zoiqdek a kultura, gdzie jest powiedziane: „Stale dobre menu obiadowe... wyzwala energie zdobywcze, a te prowadza^ do dobrobytu, a dobrobyt prowadzi do wykwintu, sztuki i altruizmu (glodni nie myslq o glodnych)"... Dla mnie jest [to] przykladem, do czego moze sie^ posun^c sterroryzowany przez hasla inteligent, mimo wewn^trznego oporu i ostroznosci... Sedno tkwi w tym: Poezja Peipera jest w gruncie rzeczy artystowska, „literacka"... Kompromis Peipera jest bardzo ciekawy: polega na przekonywaniu siebie i innych, ze jego poezja artystowska jest zarazem poezja spoleczn^. Ze swoja^ formq robi to samo co ze swoim kotletem: robi z niej sztandar.'

130 phisticated metaphors - the main reason for its negative reception among critics. Is it, however, but an exercise in empty virtuosity? Is the literary37 reading of this controversial, much maligned, sometimes ridiculed, poem38 really the correct and most appropriate one? Fortunately, it so happens that the readers have at their disposal two substantial analyses of Noga (and there are several others, but not as extensive, thorough and intellectually both chal­ lenging and stimulating), one by Peiper himself and the other by Janusz

Slawihski. Comparing the two may eventually lead to finding answers to these questions.

Let Peiper speak first. He begins by quoting the opening four lines:

That hymn of silk above sweet cruelty; that ribbon, which blossoms from the slipper's soft leaves and, giving luminous gratuities to the crowded wrinkles of the pavement, drowns the street in prayer while flickering with light;39

Peiper explains:

While reading or listening to these lines the first act of imagination generates a vision called forth by "that hymn." If this were followed by words whose meaning corresponded to the meaning of the preceding

Allusion is here made to the four levels of textual reading (meaning), usually associated with Dantean poetics: literal, moral (homiletic), anagogical (mystical), and allegorical. In addition to Irzykowski's there exist at least several, mostly negative, critical analyses of the poem, including the following: Jozef Birkenmajer, "Tadeusz Peiper: Poematy" in: Nowa Ksiqzka, 1936, Vol. VI; Julian Przybos, "O poezji integralnej" [On Integral Poetry] in: eadem, Linia i gwar. Szkice [The Line And The Buzz. Sketches], Vols. I & II (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1959); eadem, Sens poetycki [Poetic Sense], Vols. I & II (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Lit- erackie, 1967), where he calls Noga 'the synonym of artificiality,' but adds: '[P]erhaps... an inno­ vator belonging to some future poetic generation will draw inspiration from this poem' (171); (ia), "Peryfrastyczny ksztalt nogi" [Periphrastic Shape of a Leg] in: Dziennik Ludowy [The Peo­ ple's Daily], 1968, No. 286. 39 In Polish: Ten hymn z jedwabiu ponad okrucienstwem z cukru; ta wst^ga, ktora wykwita z mi^kkich lisci trzewika i darz^c napiwkiem swiatla trumne zmarszczki bruku, topi ulice^ w modlitwie gdy wsrod niej swiatlem zamiga;

131 ones, that is to say speaking about some hymn (about its sound, about its intention, about people who sang it, about the place where they sang, about the time they sang...), then that vision, called forth earlier by the word "hymn," would have fulfilled itself, would have become more precise, more clearly delineated, it would have created an image. But the word "hymn" is followed by the word "silk", that is to say the word connected only metaphorically to the previous one, the word which introduces a piece of reality which lies far away from the former and is tied to it in an unusual way. Consequently, an image cannot be built and does not emerge. The initial vision takes flight and makes room for a new one. By leaving behind a trace of emotional memory, that initial vision either remains as a fraction of itself within the new vision; or, suddenly reduced in the process, joins the latter; or unites with the latter as if penetrated by it; or changes in any similar fashion and in any comparable manner it associates with the new vision. Thus the new act of imagination is set in motion. As new words keep arriv­ ing, the visions undergo further metamorphoses. "That hymn of silk above... cruelty" - bah! another vision arrives, again its metaphoric di­ mension does not allow for an image to form, but, changing the previ­ ous vision, it unites with it in some uncommon way. "That hymn of silk above sweet cruelty" - same thing again. It may so happen that for some reason a word will remain inactive in the process of building visions, that it will not generate any vision; a word may have found itself in a combination, which makes the birth of a vision diffi­ cult; or there may be other reasons for it, reasons beyond words: the speed of reading, slow imagination of the reader (listener), some acci­ dental obstacles. Let's assume that the words "above" and "sweet" would be such. What's going to happen? Of course, the word "cruelty" will behave as if it were not preceded by "above" and "sweet" and will unite with the transformed earlier visions; a combination will appear, more or less like this: "The hymn of silk cruelty." It illustrates an im­ portant aspect: the inactive words do not stop the process of the visions merging. And now what happens after "sweet cruelty?" We come across a new thing: a rhythmic caesura. A moment of importance. This caesura is not just a matter of rhythm and is not limited to giving musi­ cal emotions only. It influences the content of the reader's perception. Also, it concludes one process of the visions merging and separates it from another, which will instantly begin. Those initial visions, or vi­ sion, pass on into the storage of the reader's memory. With the new words following the caesura ("that ribbon, which blossoms") another process of visions' transformation and merger commences. This time it is more complex than before, because it occurs in between three cae­ suras, which are of unequal lengths and yet interdependent. "That rib­ bon, which blossoms from the slipper's soft leaves" - after this second caesura, which is not equal to the preceding one, the process of vision building will not close but only stop for a moment. It will experience stronger accretion, and then it will go on by merging one group of con­ centrated visions with ensuing visions in the way analogous to the pro-

132 cess described at the beginning of our argument, easily understood. This second process ends with a caesura at the end of the fourth line, and then the final vision becomes a memory and changes the preceding memories...40 Agnieszka Kluba questions the validity of the argument: it is not certain, she says, if what Peiper tried to convey may really be referred to as a model an­ alysis. According to the scholar, Peiper uses, or even overuses the term "vi-

Tadeusz Peiper, T%dy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 299-301. Wide spaces within the text are from Peiper. 'Pierwszym faktem wyobrazni przy czytaniu czy sluchaniu tych wierszy jest widzenie wywolane przez „ten hymn". Gdyby potem nastej>owary stowa, tresciq swa^ realnie zwiazane z tresciq poprzednich, a wi^c mowiace dalej o tym samym jakims hymnie (o jego brzmieniu, o jego intencji, o ludziach, kt6rzy go spiewali, o miejscu gdzie spiewano, o czasie kiedy spiewano...), wowczas widzenie, wywolane poprzednio przez slowo „hymn", wypelnialoby sie^ stawaioby sie^ szczegotowsze, wyrazniej zarysowane, powstalby obraz. Jednak po slowie „hymn" nast^puje slowo „z jedwabiu", tj. slowo zlaczone z poprzednim metaforycznie, a wi^c wprowadzajace odlegly od tamtej i nierealnie z nia^ zwiazany kawal rzeczywistosci, zatem obraz nie moze sie^ zbudowac i do jego powstania nie dochodzi. Natomiast poprzednie widzenie albo pierzcha robi^c miejsce nowemu i pozostawiajac po sobie tylko wzruszeniowe wspomnienie, albo pozostaje jako ulamek zlaczony z nowym widzeniem, albo laczy sie^ z nim nagle zmniejszone, albo laczy sie^ z nim jakby przenikni^te przez nie, albo w jakikolwiek inny spos6b zmienia sie^ i w jakikolwiek inny sposob z nim sie^ laczy. Powstaje nowy fakt wyobrazni. W miar$ jak przybywajq dalsze slowa, widzenia ulegaja^ dalszym przemianom. „Hymn z jedwabiu ponad okrucieristwem" - ha, znowu przybywa nowe widzenie, jego metaforycznosc nie dopuszcza powstania obrazu, lecz, zmieniwszy widzenia poprzednie, laczy sie^ z nimi w jakis nierealny sposob. „Hymn z jedwabiu ponad okrucienstwem z cukru" - znowu to samo. Moze zdarzyc si^, ze ktores ze slow pozostanie nieczynne widzeniowo, nie wywola widzenia; z jakichkolwiek przyczyn; slowo moglo sie^ znalezc w zestawieniu ktore utrudnia narodziny widzenia; lub przyczyny moga^ bye poza slowem: szybkosc czytania, powolna wyobraznia czytelnika (sluchacza), jakies przeszkody przypadkowe. Przypuscmy, ze takim slowem bylo w naszym przypadku „okruciehstwo". Coz sie^ stanie? Oczywiscie nast^pne slowo zachowa sie^ tak, jak gdyby nie bylo poprzedzone „okrucieristwem" i bez niego zlaczy sie^ ze zmienionymi widzeniami poprzednimi; powstanie polaczenie mniej wiecej takie: „hymn z jedwabiu ponad cukrem". Jest to ilustracja waznego zjawiska: nieczynne slowo nie wstrzymuje procesu zrastania sie^ widzen. A teraz coz dzieje sie^ po cukrze? Natrafiamy na rzecz nowq: pauza rytmiczna. Moment wazny. Ta pauza nie jest tylko sprawq rytmiki i nie daje tylko wzruszeri muzycznych, lecz wph/wa na tresc widzen czytelnika, zamyka ona dotychczasowe zrastania sie^ widzen i oddziela je od tego, ktore rozpocznie sie^ za chwil^. Tamte widzenia, czy tez tamto widzenie koiicowe, otrzymuja^ walor wspomnieniowy, a wraz ze slowami nastejmjacymi po pauzie („ta wst^ga, ktora wykwita") rozpoczyna sie^ nowy proces przemieniania sie^ i zrastania widzen. Jest on tym razem bardziej zlozony niz poprzednio, bo odbywa sie^ wsrod trzech pauz nierownych i zaleznych od siebie. „Ta wst^ga, ktora wykwita z mi^kkich lisci trzewika" - po tej pauzie, ktora nie jest rowna poprzedniej, proces widzeniowy nie zamknie si^, lecz zatrzyma na chwil^, dozna silniejszego zrostu, po czym b^dzie odbywal sie^ dalej, laczac zalosc skupionych zrostow widzeniowych z nastejmymi widzeniami w sposob kt6ry przez analogic da sie^ latwo zrozumiec. Drugi proces widzeniowy zakohczy pauza u korica czwartego wiersza, po czym widzenie kohcowe przechodzi we wspomnienie i zmienia wspomnienia poprzednie.'

!33 sion" - and his demonstration does not provide any concrete answer to how these "visions" and their "merging" work; it does not give any analytical proof of how these "visions" relate to possible readings of the poem, to understanding it one way or another. Peiper's analysis does not supply any clear evidence of how the words used in the poem attain their, as she calls it, "multiplied senses."

The poet commits tautology by repeating the words and verses used in the poem, without pointing at any relations which could lead to giving the words and verses their desired significance. The meaning, Agnieszka Kluba main­ tains, is still vague, hidden. Peiper's analysis, she says, concentrates on accen­ tuating a series of structural denotative disharmonies, on the notional unpre­

dictability of the appearing words. She contrasts Peiper's own argument with the one by the distinguished literary theoretician and critic, Janusz Slawiiiski, written some four decades later than the poet's.4' Strangely enough, she fully

and completely ignores what Peiper wrote just before the quote she makes use

of: 'One has to make sure that analysing the whole, dividing it into com­

ponents, does not lead to denaturalisation of that whole. My analysis of

what happens within imagination will not extend beyond acts of imagination. I

do not define precisely that act of imagination which arises as a consequence of

word; I do not classify it; I resort to introspection and call it vision.'42 These

41 Agnieszka Kluba, Autotelicznosc - Referencyjnosc - Niewyrazalnosc. O nowoczesnej poezji polskiej (1918-1939) [Autotelic - Referential - Inexpressible: On Modern Poetry in Poland (1918- 1939)] (Wroclaw: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wroclawskiego, 2004) 103. 42 Tadeusz Peiper, Tqdy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 299. "Trzeba troszczyc sif o to, by rozkladanie calosci na czastki nie wynaturzalo calosci. Moja analiza tego, co Dzieje sie^ w wyobrazni, nie

*34 three sentences, for some reason omitted by Agnieszka Kluba, do put what

Peiper says later in perspective. However, Agnieszka Kluba's reservations about the exact meaning of Peiper's terms "vision" and "merging" are—but only to a certain extent—valid. One more thing has to be stressed with regards to

her extremely elegant comparative examination of both Peiper's and

Slawinski's analyses of the opening lines of Noga. If it is indeed a good point to

make to indicate that Peiper's analysis suffered from "parapsychological" slant,

and the Slawinski's offered, as she says, a "model" (structuralist) way of looking

at the poem, then it is equally obvious that qualitative comparison and evalu­

ation (judgement) of the two approaches recorded some four decades apart—

the intermediate development of analytical apparatus notwithstanding—may

not necessarily be justified, deceptively convincing though it is. In Kluba's re­

flection another aspect becomes inspiringly disputable. What she says is this.

Despite of using complex metaphors, Peiper tries to make sure that the reader

is not lost in the metaphorical net. Apparently, there arises an epistemic dis­

crepancy between his employment of metaphors on the one hand and provid­

ing connotative guidelines to understanding them on the other. Noga is one

such example, as all the metaphors, she says, pale (supposedly lose their pre-

intended force, impact) when confronted with the direct connotative indica­

tors: the title of the poem ["noga" = "leg"] and its closing word ["ta noga" =

"that leg"]. Agnieszka Kluba calls this discrepancy "oversignification"

wyjdzie poza fakty wyobrazni. Tego faktu, ktory powstaje w wyobrazni jako nast^pstwo slowa, nie okreslam blizej, odwoiuj^ si^ do introspekcji i nazywam go widzeniem.'

135 ["nadwyrazalnosc"]. Peiper's "oversignification" is, nonetheless, a conscious act on his part. He uses a well delineated strategy to reduce any possibility of the work's becoming too "open," although metaphorically (interpretatively) open

he wants his poems to be. It ought to be remembered that at the very begin­

ning of his published poetic undertaking (in Zwrotnica), Peiper avoided giving

his poems titles.

This occasionally led to, sometimes unintendedly amusing (and - strange),

misreadings. Says Adam Wazyk: 'During the 1923 Krakow uprising,43 Peiper wrote a short poem, which he later titled The Workers' Chorale. He was [al­

ways] sensitive to political and social events; the evidence is not lacking, also in

his later literary works. But even his sensitivity to and the gravity of the subject

could not make him to be direct and explicit. While reading the Chorale in its

original version [without the title], I was sure that this pulsating, obsessive

message comes from a hungry African tribe, the majority of the speakers being

little children. This poem is an allegory, which is inexplicable without the title

[given later]. The title clarifies all.'44 Wazyk spoke, it can easily be assumed,

This was a violent, bloody, and justified, protest of the workers against—without sounding too Communist—their oppressive and inflexible employers. It took place in the autumn of 1923. It suffices to say that several units of the Polish Army, largely consisting of their com­ patriots and peasants, took the workers' side. Peiper also wrote a play based on the events. 44 Adam Wazyk, Dziwna historia awangardy [The Strange History of the Avant-Garde] (War- szawa: Czytelnik, 1976) 58-59. 'Podczas wypadkow krakowskich w 1923 Peiper napisal krotki utwor, ktory potem nazwal Choraiem robotnikow. Byl wyczulony na fakty polityczne i spoleczne, na co nie brak dowodow i w jego pozniejszej tworczosci. Nawet to wyczulenie i powaga tematu nie zdolafy go jednak naklonic do bezposredniosci i prostoty j^zyka. Czytaj^c Choral w pierwodruku bez tytulu, bylem przekonany, ze ta pulsuj^ca obsesyjna wypowiedz gromadna pochodzi od glodnego murzyriskiego plemienia z przewag^ marych dzieci. Wiersz jest alegori^ niezrozumial^ bez tyturu. Tytul jq objasnia.'

136 about he expressive third stanza:

For us your song, for us your golden song, for us who are black your golden song, for us your song sculpts the world, for us the world the world.45

As a serious and seriously self-conscious artist, Peiper had learnt from his unintended oversights. This is why there should be no doubts about his deci­ sion to endow his originally untitled poems - with titles. The titles, narrowing

down the semantic context, would by no means prevent the readers' possible

enjoyment of the poems' "open" metaphorical ("strange," "open") appeal. So, in the final versions of his poems, Peiper first indicates the topic, the subject, the

"musical" theme, and then proceeds to dazzle the reader with the wide space of

perceptual (interpretative) possibilities. And in this, among others, lies the

power of his poetic imagination - and his licentia poetica. His poems, like

Noga, become something akin to musical paraphrases (not - variations), in

which the given topic undergoes—not infrequently fantastical—

metamorphoses, now concealing it, and now revealing - always in new incarna­

tions, always in new situations.

Tadeusz Peiper, Poematy i utwory teatralne, op. cit., 42. In Polish: Nam twoj spiew, nam zloty twoj spiew, nam czarnym zloty twoj spiew, twoj spiew rzezbi nam swiat, nam swiat, swiat.

*37 [III.5] To return to Noga, Janusz Slawiriski begins his interpretation with the second verse of the poem. Says he:

As a whole, the phrase "that ribbon, which blossoms from the slipper's soft leaves" is a periphrastic equivalent of the word "leg," but in each particular case the groups of words act as if on different levels. The word "slipper" suggests the direct, metonymic bond with the common [prosaic] designate (the basis for which is the real bond between the designates of the words "leg" and "slipper"); the word "ribbon" is an ar­ bitrarily determined poetic synonym of the word "leg" and as such it constitutes the centre of the periphrasis. However, both "slipper" and "ribbon," which find themselves on the opposite ends of the array of possible connotations, are not used in their usual meanings, but in meanings already transformed by the accompanying designates: the connotation of the verb "blossoms" projects into "ribbon," and that of the two-word expression "soft leaves" - into "slipper." As a result, both words, "slipper" and "ribbon," are placed within [literally: "are dragged into"] the sphere of a vegetal metaphor (NB, this metaphor,' Slawiriski asserts, 'clearly appeals to the visual imagery often employed by the Se­ cession artists [literally: "of Secession character"]).' Continues Slawiriski: 'The metaphoric combinations of neighbouring words; the higher periphrastic entity; and then the reference to the common [pro­ saic] term which constitutes the background of the periphrasis - these are the three connotative registers which through stratification and interpenetration create the complete poetic image. Following the course of the poem, one can distinguish in it certain groupings of im­ ages, each one of which fills a separate segment of the lyrical narrative. The author marked the boundaries of these segments by semicolons. However, not all of these caesuras are equal. Some are more powerful, some weaker. Undoubtedly, the strongest pause falls after the first verse, which contains in itself an image completely closed, which is not developed further. This verse may be looked upon as a kind of intro­ duction, giving the whole monologue a panegyrical tone. In the meta­ phoric grouping "[That] hymn of silk" the word "silk" plays the role an­ alogous to the one played by the word "slipper" in the fragment ana­ lysed above (the silk of a stocking which fits closely the woman's leg). In turn, the word "hymn" suggests the importance of and - we would say - the sublime eminence of the extolled object. Concurrently, this word's partial meaning establishes the position of the one who extols, the lyrical "I" - i.e. in the role predetermined by the poem's stylistic mode: rhetorical and praiseful. "Sweet cruelty" allows for an even more intense lyrical perspective: in the act of contemplating the extolled ob­ ject the sensation of sweetness unites inseparably with the sensation of torture. This ambiguous satisfaction or, speaking more precisely, the manner of expressing it poetically, references the models of the Ba­ roque lyric poetry, and especially its erotic verse. The signals of emo-

138 tional involvement are not something added to the characterisation of the object, but are rooted in combinations of words upon which this characterisation is built. In both cases similar metaphoric mechanisms are at play: words highly abstract in nature—such as "hymn" and "cruelty"—merge with concrete ones, which evoke sensual experiences ("silk" = slipperiness and glitter, "sweet" - sweetness, [sugar]).4 The poem, or, rather, the modern dithyramb, retains its metaphoric com­ plexity as it proceeds beyond that point. In its entirety, including the already quoted opening lines, it reads as follows:

That hymn of silk above sweet cruelty; that ribbon, which blossoms from the slipper's soft leaves

Janusz Slawihski, "Tadeusz Peiper - Noga" in Janusz Maciejewski (Ed.), Czytamy wiersze [How to Read Poetry] (Warszawa: Ludowa Spoldzielnia Wydawnicza, 1970) 137-139. '[S]formuk)wanie „wst^ga, ktora wykwita z mi^kkich lisci trzewika" jest w calosci peryfrastycznym ekwiwalentem „nogi", jednakze poszczegolne grupy slow dzialaj^ tu jakby na roznych stopniach. Slowo „trzewik" sugeruje bezposredniq, metonimiczna^ wi^z z haslem prozaicznym (podstaw^ stanowi realny zwiqzek desygnatow obu wyrazow: nogi i trzewika); slowo „wst^ga" jest ustalonym arbitralnie synonimem poetyckim „nogi" i jako takie tworzy osrodek peryfrazy; ale zarowno „trzewik", jak „wstfga", znajdujqce siq na przeciwleglych krancach wachlarza mozliwosci znaczeniowych, nie sq uzyte w swoich sensach zwykfych, lecz w juz przeksztalconych pod wprywem okreslen towarzyszacych: na „wst^ge/' promieniuje znaczenia slowa „wykwita", na „trzewik" - znaczenia dwuslowia „mi^kkie liscie", w wyniku czego oba wyrazy zostaja^ wci^gni^te w porzqdek metafory roslinnej (nb. apeluje one do wyobrazeri plastycznych o charakterze wyraznie secesyjnym). Kombinacje metaforyczne slow sasiadujacych, nadrz^dna calostka peryfrastyczna, odniesienie do prozaicznej nazwy stanowiacej tlo peryfrazy - takie S4 trzy regestry znaczeniowe, ktore nawarstwiaj^c sie^ i przenikaj^c tworzq pelny obraz poetycki. Pod^zaj^c za biegiem utworu mozna wyodr^bnic w nim pewne skupienia obrazow, z ktorych kazde wypemia oddzielny segment lirycznej narracji. Granice tych segmentow zostaly przez autora zaznaczone przy pomocy srednikow. Jednak nie wszystkie podzialy S4 tu rownorz^dne, jedne sq slabsze, drugie mocniejsze. Niewatpliwie najdobitniejsza pauza przypada po wersie pierwszym, ktory miesci w sobie kompleks obrazowy calkowicie zamkni^ty, nie znajdujqcy potem zadnego rozwini^cia. Wers ten mozna traktowac jako swego rodzaju wst^p poddaja_cy panegiryczna^ melodie^ calemu monologowi. W metaforycznym zestawieniu „hymn z jedwabiu" slowo „jedwab" odgrywa analogicznq role^ jak „trzewik" w analizowanym wyzej fragmencie (jedwab ponczochy opinaj^cej noge^ kobiecaj. „Hymn" natomiast sugeruje donioslosc i - powiedzielibysmy - wynioslosc opiewanego obiektu, zarazem slowo to czqstkq swojego znaczenia okresla sytuacj^ podmiotowa; umieszcza „ja" liryczne w roli, jaka^ przewiduje dla niego stylistyka hymnu, retoryczna i pochwalna. „Okrucienstwo z cukru" - dopuszcza jeszcze bardziej intensywnie liryczn^ perspektywej w kontemplacji opiewanego przedmiotu doznanie slodyczy laczy sie^ z doznaniem tortury. Ta dwuznaczna satysfakcja, a scislej mowiac - sposob jej poetyckiej ekspresji, odsyla do wzorcow barokowej liryki, zwlaszcza erotycznej. Sygnaly uczuciowego zaangazowania nie s^ czyms dodanym do charakterystyki obiektu, lecz tkwiq w zestawieniach wyrazow buduj^cych owa^ charakterystyk^. W obydwu zespolach dzialaj^ zreszt.4 analogiczne mechanizmy metaforyzacji; slowa wysoce abstrakcyjne („hymn", „okruciefistwo") przenikajq si^ z konkretnymi, apelujaxymi do doswiadczen zmyslowych („jedwab" - sliskosc i polyskliwo^c, „cukier" - slodycz).'

139 and, giving luminous gratuities to the crowded wrinkles of the pavement, drowns the street in prayer while flickering with light; which clothed the evening's feet in midday glare, (and if it be not sun, then because the Sun only shines but knows not how to flower); which, worshipping with fragrant warm chalk, vanishes in the pleated tent of crepe de Chine - (and the wind dips in that skirt like lips in a cup) - vanishes and lives on? the vaults of glittering dusts bless it? does it tell lies? does it insult fancies, both mine and yours? does it flow down the loins? does it transfer blooming silver onto sculpted vases shaped like Italian days, onto hips? does it use a fan of radiance to caress a pair of pigeons which swell the shirt like a cloud? and what is its harbour? that leg.47

[III.6] But, following Slawiriski, certain poetic formulae are more or less easily

explained. The poem is composed of five syntactic constituents whose role is to elaborate the initial periphrasis, "that ribbon, which blossoms from the slip­

per's soft leaves." Caesuras dividing the poem occur, respectively, after first

four lines, ending with "[that ribbon which] drowns the street in prayer while

flickering with light;" then three, ending with "the Sun only shines but knows

not how to flower;" then two, ending with "[that ribbon which] vanishes in the

47 In Polish: Ten hymn z jedwabiu ponad okrucienstwem z cukru; ta wsteja, kt6ra wykwita z mif kkich lisci trzewika i darzac napiwkiem swiatla thimne zmarszczki bruku, topi ulic§ w modlitwie gdy wsrod niej swiatlem zamiga; ktora wieczorowi kladzie na stopy poludnie biale, a jesli nie jest sloricem, to jedynie dlatego ze slonce tylko swieci, ale nie umie bye kwiatem; ktora, zwohija_c pacierze wonnq cieplq kredq, znika w plisowanym namioce z krepdeszyny - a wiatr nurza sie^ w tej sukni niby usta w pucharze - znika i zyje dalej? sklepieri lsniace pyly blogoslawi^ jaj klamie? lzy obrazy moje i wasze? spfywa na uda jakie? przenosi rozkwitle srebra na rzezbione wazy o ksztakie wfoskiego dnia, na biodra? wachlarzem lsnieri gladzi parej golebi ktora rozpiera obtok koszuli? i jaka jest jej przystaii? ta noga.

140 pleated tent of crepe de Chine;" and then one, a self-contained syntactic unit:

"(and the wind dips in that skirt like lips in a cup)." After that, the closing syn­ tactic constituent appears, comprising six lines (what a wonderful numerical series: 4-3-2-1... 6!) and bringing the rhetoric tone of the poem to a climax through a simple yet highly effective means of multiplying questions whose goal is to intensify the expressive impact of the opening "quatrain" (if quatrain it be). The climactic segment is characterised by the masterful use of acceler­ ando—to use that convenient musical term—a gradual increase of narrative speed, which indicates both excitement and dismay caused by the fact the leg,

"that hymn of silk above sweet cruelty," "that ribbon, which blossoms from the

slipper's soft leaves," is soon to disappear, continuing its existence beyond the

narrator's (narrative voice's) reach. Automatically, as often in such situation,

the narrator (narrative voice) idealises the object becoming more and more dis­

tant, seeing it in "the vaults of glittering dusts" - i.e. in the sky at night, full of

stars (at least that seems to be the intended meaning). This, for the most part

painful, erotic excitement—perhaps of Baroque AND Romantic provenance

(Peiper would have hated reading this suggestion to the Romantic stock in

trade)—continues and now it is time to complain bitterly about the object's

unattainability and its vicious nature: the object, "that hymn of silk above

sweet cruelty," "that ribbon, which blossoms from the slipper's soft leaves," be­

comes a synonym of pitiless indifference; it "flows down the loins" (whose

loins? does this signify a masochistic erotic pleasure stemming from still seeing

141 that beautiful shape, which may be giving satisfaction to someone else?); it de­ ceitfully—surely in a coquettish way?—insults "fancies both mine and yours"— the very first and last time the poet indicates his personal presence and in­ volvement in the overall fleeting vision; also, he takes for granted the receiver's similar experiences—these "fancies" being, again, erotic fantasies; the object is crowned by the shapely, attractive hips, which—another successfully intro­

duced simile—recall "blooming silver... vases shaped like Italian days..." and

denote something sultry, exciting and desirable (are we supposed, expected,

maybe even required, to invoke a ghost of a Messalina, or a Lucrezia Borgia

here?); then, proceeding upwards, the object transforms into the "fan of radi­

ance [caressing] a pair of pigeons which swell the airy shirt" - and these are

breasts which one naturally studies after having studied someone's legs; finally,

the arrival, "harbour" - the question is where does the object go, where will it

stop, to whom is it going? The periphrasis "that ribbon, which blossoms from

the slipper's soft leaves"48 finds its complementation in the closing words, "that

leg." The whole process has come to an end by returning to the simplest, most

obvious, and most expressive statement of awe mixed with regret: "that leg,"

remaining beyond reach, beyond fulfilment. Where does that whole vision

take the observer (receiver)?

'On the level of profane experience vegetable life displays merely a series of births and deaths. Only the religious vision of life makes it possible to decipher other meanings in the rhythm of vegetation, first of all the ideas of regeneration, of eternal youth, of health, of im­ mortality... This is why myths of the quest for youth or immortality give prominent place to a tree with golden fruit or miraculous leaves...' Mircea Eliade, The Sacred & The Profane. The Na­ ture of Religion. Transl. by William R. Trask (San Diego, New York, London: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1987) 148-149.

142 [HI.7] It has often been suggested that Peiper's poetry owed something to the

Baroque poetics. In terms of his poetic metier and imagery such suggestions, despite the poet's restraint in admitting such ties, are certainly correct.49 Yet it appears equally valid to propose another source of inspiration, and if not inspiration then—involuntary, not fully realised—reflection of another, earlier aesthetics, that of the Italian Renaissance madrigal, a genre of lyric and vocal music cultivated avidly by countless Renaissance artists. Although the madri­ gal originated in northern Italy much earlier - probably in the 1320's - and then flourished between the 1340's and 1360's, by the mid-i5th Century it was practi­ cally extinct, only to resurface in a different - and unrelated - incarnation in the 1530's. And in Peiper's verse there are some references to that 16th Century manifestation of the genre reborn. Firstly, Renaissance madrigals usually dealt with secular, "popular" topics such as Nature, love, everyday life, death etc. (al­ though religious, sacred texts were sometimes used, especially by the English).

The content was intended to echo every single detail of the message. It was meant to enhance the subjectivity of the artist's feelings (it is a well-known fact

Elzbieta Dabrowska, Teksty w ruchu. Powroty baroku w polskiej poezji wspoiczesnej [Texts in Motion. The Returns of Baroque in Contemporary Polish Poetry] (Opole: Uniwersytet Opolski, 2001) 78. Dabrowska underlines similarities between linguistic concepts present in modern poetry and those found in Baroque aesthetics, both exploring the possibilities of language in order to express cognitive uncertainty of the world. According to her, Peiper was among the first to make and interpret the connection. See also: Adam Wazyk, Kwestia gustu [A Matter of Taste] (Warszawa: Panstwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1966) 77. Here Wazyk makes a very im­ portant, albeit brief, remark on Peiper's poetry owning much to the Spanish Baroque (Gongora) as well as symbolism. This symbolist link, Wazyk says, was against the contemporary poetic fashion [in Poland].

H3 that Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina, who had two books of his four-part mad­

rigals published, had to apologise to the Pope!). Secondly, the use of unortho­

dox vocabulary determined the choice of techniques. 16th Century madrigals were often a field of experimentation. Strange similes, introduction of "vulgar"

topoi, more flexible employment of rhythm, search for new, often mimetic,

timbral effects - these are characteristics of the genre during its heyday.

Thirdly, madrigals were a kind of Renaissance chamber dialogue, in their musi­

cal incarnations sometimes with instrumental accompaniment. Fourthly, they

were normally conceived as cycles to be published in sets of books. And fifthly,

most importantly, madrigals were not subject to any obligatory form - it is

symptomatic that one of the most influential and accomplished Italian poets

and theorists of the period, Pietro Bembo (1470-1547), claimed that the genre

could not be categorised or bound by any rules 'concerning number of lines or

arrangement of lines.'50

All the features mentioned above characterise the analysed poem, although

the style of it might be considered fairly uncommon in terms of poetry of the

second half of the 16th Century - which is more than understandable.

To put it bluntly, Noga is one of the most unusual poems written in Poland

between the wars.

Firstly, the combination of metaphors is in itself very unusual, its closest

50 Piotr Grella-Mozejko, "George Crumb Madrigals: Composer in a Magic Theatre" in: The Al­ berta New Music & Arts Review, Vol. III/IV, No. 4/5 Double issue: Fall 1999/Fall 2002, 67-68. See also: Alex Preminger (Ed.), Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990) 471.

144 "relatives" being Spanish and Polish Baroque poetry; and this, though following the Slawiriski analysis—and given the poet's reluctance to draw any parallels with the Baroque diction51—is said very cautiously; the avoidance of the con­ ventional narrative imagery deprives the work of an immediately binding nar­ rative fundamental and a strongly defined reference point: the poet explores a whole field of semantic possibilities. This is Peiper's "pseudonyming" at its most uncompromising.

Secondly, the poem's narrative voice is treated as an instrument of sorts: the intention to treat it as such is made even stronger by Peiper's total indifference to the presupposed requirements of the conventional semantic content of the text (this is one of those works of Peiper's where he does not make use of any immediately intelligible, "serious," "canonical" literary topoi). In Noga (acci­ dentally, if read backwards the title will sound the Greek word agon [dycbv] - a

(poetic) contest! Perhaps a friendly contest between the author and his smart

'Prose names everything by its surnames, it registers the real course of events and in that it satisfies certain predilections of the reader, whereas poetry satisfies others through its indirect speech, the speech of correspondencies and equivalencies, the speech of passionate pseudo­ nyms. It is to metaphorisation that poetry largely owes its artistic abilities... Here to the blind who so stubbornly rave about Baroque: let us draw a comparison between a fully metaphorised poem and modern architecture. If old metaphors were but chimneypiece orna­ ments, then full, modern metaphorisation is like verbal fabrication of new building materials, which the poet uses to erect purposeful poetic edifices - fighting with the real course of events and, at the same time, taking advantage of it like an architect who struggles with gravity and uses it to his advantage.' Peiper, T§dy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 296: 'Proza nazywa wszystko o nazwisku, notuje realny przebieg zdarzen i tym samym zaspakaja pewne upodobania czlowieka, inne zaspakaja poezja swoja^ mowq posredni^, mowq odpowiednikow czy rownowaznikow, mowa nami^tnych przezwisk. Metaforyzacji zawdzi^cza w wysokim stopniu mowa poetycka swe mozliwosci artystyczne... Tu dla slepcow ktorzy tak uparcie majaczq o baroku - niech sie; pojawi podobieristwo mi^dzy poematem zmetaforyzowanym a architektura najnowsz^. Jesli dawne metafory byry ozdobkami gzymsikowo-sztukateryjnymi, to pelna metaforyzacja jest jak gdyby slownq fabrykacj^ nowych materialow budowlanych, z ktorych poeta wznosi celowe budowy poematowe, walczac z realnym biegiem zdarzen i korzystajac z niego, jak architekt walczy z sila^ ci^zkosci i korzysta z niej.'

H5 reader?) he offers a fascinating alternative to the conventionally understood reading strategies, challenging the receiver to go beyond the culturally pre­ determined expectations.

Thirdly, the absence of any conventional textual semantic reference helps the poet to concentrate on defining the fundamentals of his new vocabulary, his new poetic diction - the stress is now on the concealed abilities of poetic

intonations (and intuitions) to communicate on the threshold of perception,

intentionally opening new paths for experiencing the narrative. Such proced­

ures were observed within the context of avant-garde musical poetics by Klaus-

Michael Hinz, who draws parallels between the seminal German composer

Helmut Lachenmann's concept of the treatment of the vocal part in his famous,

groundbreaking work temA for flute, mezzo-soprano and violoncello (1968)

and that of Roland Barthes in his classic, "The Grain of the Voice."52 In the

body of his essay, Barthes adopts Julia Kristeva's concepts of texts, here referred

to as pheno-song and geno-song, to analyse the interpretive/expressive capabili­

ties of the human voice. According to Barthes:

[W]e can see in song (pending the extension to the whole of music) the two texts inscribed by Julia Kristeva. The pheno-song (if the transposition be allowed) covers all the phenomena, all the features which belong to the structure of language being sung, the rules of the genre, the coded form of melisma, the composer's idiolect, the style of interpretation: in short, everything in the performance which is in the service of communication, representation, expression, everything which it is customary to talk about, which forms the tissue of cultural values (the matter of acknowledged

52 Klaus-Michel Hinz, "Raume der Wollust—zur Kompositiontechnik Helmut Lachenmanns" (booklet notes) (Recording No. MO 782023) Montaigne Auvidis, 9-10. Later printed in: Musik- Texte, 1997, 67/68, 75 - 76. Here I make use of the French version of the essay, entitled 'Espaces de la jouissance', published in the programme of the Festival d'Automne a Paris 1993.

146 tastes, of fashions, of critical commentaries), which takes its bearing di­ rectly on the ideological alibis of the period ('subjectivity,' 'expressivity,' 'dramaticism,' 'personality' of the artist). The geno-song is the volume of the singing and speaking voice, the space where significations germinate 'from within language and in its very materiality'; it forms a signifying play having nothing to do with communication, representation (of feelings), ex­ pression; it is that apex (or that depth) of production where the melody really works at the language - not at what it says, but the voluptuousness of its sound-signifiers, of its letters - where melody explores how the lan­ guage works and identifies with that work. It is, in a very simple word but which must be taken seriously, the diction of the language.53

In other words, the pheno-song manifests itself externally, as the sum of cul­

tural experiences and codes of behaviour, establishing a predetermined collec­

tive point of recognition for the work and its observable socio-artistic context.

In turn, the geno-song sounds from within as hardly definable, yet experien-

tially attainable, with erotic (jouissance), bodily and gestural additions taking

its interpretation beyond convention. Klaus-Michael Hintz stresses that the pheno-song satisfies the demands of mass culture which strives to reduce music

(and other modes of artistic expression, including poetry) to its expressivity

alone, while geno-song, emerging from within the language, penetrates deeper

regions of the interieur. So, if the pheno-song offers instant gratification and

the fulfilment of predictable (a priori) expectations, then the geno-song offers

desire - and longing. Says Barthes:

Compare two sung deaths, both of them famous: that of Boris and that of Melisande. Whatever Mussorgsky's intentions, the death of Boris is ex­ pressive or, if preferred, hysterical; it is overloaded with historical, affective contents. Performances of the death cannot be but dramatic: it is the tri­ umph of the pheno-text, the smothering of significance under the soul as

Roland Barthes, 'The Grain of the Voice', in: Roland Barthes, Image, Music, Text, transl. Stephen Heath ( New York: Hill and Wang, 1977) 182-183.

147 signified. Melisande, on the contrary, only dies prosodically. Two ex­ tremes are joined, woven together: the perfect intelligibility of the denota­ tion and the pure prosodic segmentation of the enunciation; between the two a salutary gap (filled out in Boris) - the pathos, that is to say, accord­ ing to Aristotle (why not?), passion such as men speak and imagine it, the accepted idea of death, endoxical death. Melisande dies without any noise . . . [N]othing occurs to interfere with the signifier and there is thus no com­ pulsion to redundance; simply, the production of a music-language with the function of preventing the singer from being expressive.54

These forces are at play in Noga, which marks one of the apices of Peiper's

maturity as a poet. It is this short work where he achieves the complete over­

haul of the old aesthetic and reaches the goals outlined in his earlier poetry and theoretical texts.

[III.8] Additionally, in light of Janusz Siawinski's elucidations, there are most

likely three main levels of reading Peiper's poem here, at least it seems so:

1) purely physical, existential level - based on the most immediately, instinc­

tively absorbed norms of social inter-action (stereotypes, conventions) and the

resultant ambitions;

2) ontological level - based on so-called human knowledge (this is what one

may refer to as human reality, or consciousness-based reality, the reality indi­

vidual human beings directly perceive as their own);

3) allegorical level - based on the immanent desire to connect with the values

beyond consciousness's direct reach; the desire to connect with the numinous

reality.

54 Ibidem, 186-187. See also: Piotr Grella-Mozejko: "Helmut Lachenmann—Style, Sound, Text" in Contemporary Music Review, Volume 24, Part 1, 2005, 57-75.

148 I) On the existential level "that leg" becomes an object of—largely physical— craving, covetousness, like a new radio set, new car, like any other new object whose acquisition makes the owner proud; it satisfies the possible owner's (ma­ terialistic) pride. Through a series of "strange" metaphors and similes, the poet expresses both his admiration for and the desire to posses the leg - and ina­ bility to fulfil the desire.

2) On the ontological level "that leg" becomes another object, but this time it

becomes an object of investigation related to the poet's - and the reader's -

mental, metaphysical, perhaps unexplainable, knowledge of that phenomenon:

it (the leg) does exist; it is beautiful; and its shape-inspiring reflections on its

usefulness are important. To know that leg, to say: 'I recognise that leg as one

of the objects which give me joy' is crucial. In a sense, the leg (woman's leg)

has become a part of cultural heritage, and through analysing it we find our­

selves close to solving the mystery of existence (at least according to the poet, if

the reading of his poem is correct). It may be assumed that the leg becomes a

symbol of Bergsonian elan vital - the source of that force which generates emo­

tional response, awe. The leg means this: the existence of the poem in its

metaphysical dimension. The leg is, in a sense, the mystery solved. Its beaute­

ous shape is nothing but our presence in the incredibly overpowering sea of

poetic life which, according to Peiper, shapes (or may shape) reality. "That leg,"

"That ribbon, which blossoms from the slipper's soft leaves," does exist, and it

does give metaphysical joy. The network of metaphors employed in the poem

149 serves the purpose of delineating metaphysical dimensions of mental acts trig­ gered by the sensual pleasure of observing the leg and analysing its aesthetic qualities.

3) On the allegorical level the poet is entwined in the astonishing mesh of

cross-references related to (sub) conscious imagining of a woman and her leg: as a binding, even paralysing, perception of objects of worship through self-

sacrifice (or, rather, self-depreciation; self-denial) of the observer: s/he cannot

have it; it can only be worshipped from a numinous distance. The leg consti­ tutes an object (that object is like a marble image of, let us say, Greek god), which cannot be attained in a regular, common, every-day manner. But it can

be worshipped. It becomes an "unreal" physicality: a monad, a thing above

cosmic dimensions: "the vaults of glittering dusts bless it"; it becomes a materi­

ally present paraphrase of both mental and physical desire. The leg becomes a

radiant sign of unattainability (erotic thirst, ever unquenched); the sign of

something that cannot be had, that cannot be possessed - in spite of its tactile

presence. (The rules of "civilised" social co-habitation apply here.) It is beauti­

ful, yet out of reach, so out of reach (and so out of this world), in fact, that it

generates several complementary psychological equivalents related to its shape

and its shape's emotional impact - without any promise of the desire's physical

fulfilment. Due to the reader's (and the poet's!) fascination with its divine

physicality, with its quasi-presence (again: tactile un-availability) - and with its

meta-aesthetic, spiritual attributes, the leg, beautiful as it is, becomes a numin-

150 ous object (attains numinous qualities)55. It becomes a part of the poet's my­ thology. His mythology, despite its atheistic foundations, does allow for ac­ ceptance of quasi-religious objects, whose material manifestations are symbol­ ised through metaphors. A woman's leg becomes one such manifestation, as does the context of the metaphor appearing within it. The poet, in a coura­ geous act of self-defence, screens himself out from the desire of possessing that leg (and, possibly, its owner), yet he cannot prevent the process of association to stop at something so common - the physical desire which is now trans­ muted into a quasi-religious hymn. He continues to worship the beautiful shape by admitting his powerless fascination by it. To the poet, "that leg" be­ comes a perfect (again: numinous) object, an object of his god-less (yet god- aware), emotional worship. But, of course, there is no god-less worship under such circumstances.

55 'The extraordinary interest aroused all over the world by Rudolf Otto's Das Heilige (The Sa­ cred), published in 1917, still persists. Its success was certainly due to the author's new and ori­ ginal point of view. Instead of studying the ideas of God and religion, Otto undertook to ana­ lyze the modalities of the religious experience. Gifted with great psychological subtlety, and thoroughly prepared by his twofold training as theorist and historian of religions, he succeeded in determining the content and specific characteristic of religious experience. Passing over the rational and speculative side of religion, he concentrated chiefly on its irrational aspect. For Otto has read Luther and had understood what the "living God" meant to a believer... It was a terrible power, manifested in the divine wrath. 'In Das Heilige Otto sets himself to discover the characteristics of this frightening and irra­ tional experience. He finds the feeling of terror before the sacred, before the awe-inspiring mystery (mysterium tremendum), the majesty (majestas) that emanates an overwhelming su­ periority of power; he finds religious fear before the fascinating mystery {mysterium fascinans) in which perfect fullness of being flowers. Otto characterizes all these experiences as numin­ ous (from Latin numen, god), for they are induced by the revelation of an aspect of divine power. The numinous presents itself as something "wholly other" (ganz andere), something basically and totally different. It is like nothing human or cosmic; confronted with it, man senses his profound nothingness, feels that he is only a creature, or, in the words in which Abraham addresses the Lord, is "but dust and ashes" (Genesis, 18, 27).' Mircea Eliade, The Sa­ cred & The Profane..., op. cit., 8-10.

151 There are also strong reasons to find resemblances between Peiper's con­ cept and that of the early 20th Century Russian literary critic and theoretician of the Formalist school, Victor Shklovsky, who introduced the term ostraneniye

[ocTpaHeHHe] (defamiliarisation, literally: "making strange") to denote a collec­ tion of narrative techniques whose purpose is to attract and hold the reader's

(receiver's) attention to the work of art. His ideas are still relevant today, ser­ ving the purpose of analysing new phenomena in practically any discipline of artistic activity, not only literature, but also visual arts and avant-garde music.5

These techniques serve to make familiar objects seem unfamiliar and thus im­ press those objects on the reader's mind. Otherwise, habitualisation of percep­ tion will result in ignoring that work of art and treating it indifferently, as a commodity. A visual example of Shklovsky's concept may be found in any of the composite paintings by the Renaissance [pre-Baroque] visual artist,

Giuseppe Arcimboldo (1527-1593), in which the artist combines natural and man-made objects such as vegetables, animal carcasses, jewellery, and books to create allegorical, anthropomorphic portraits of the seasons, selected profes­ sions and real people. His // Cuoco (The Cook, ca. 1670) is notable for its ma­ cabre humour: three different roasted animal carcasses arranged between two silver plates make up a horrifying "face" of a cook (one of the plates acts as a hat, the impression made even stronger by a pile of leaves on top of it); turned

5 Ross Feller, "Resistant strains of postmodernism: the music of Helmut Lachenmann and Brian Ferneyhough" in: Judy Lochhead & Joseph Auner (Eds.), Postmodern music—postmodern thought (New York and London: Routledge, 2002) 254.

152 upside down, the canvas becomes a conventional still life and shows three cooked animals piled up on a silver plate, the other plate being lifted by a pair of female hands to uncover the dish. Equally striking is Arcimboldo's Vertum- nus (1590 - 1591), a "vegetable" portrait of his patron, Emperor Rudolf II. In Ar­ cimboldo's painting the prosaic components assume an almost demoniac power by being placed within a completely strange context, hence their instantaneous impact on the viewer.57 To quote Shklovsky:

Habitualization devours works, clothes, furniture, one's wife, and the fear of war. . . . The purpose of art is to impart the sensation of things as they are perceived and not as they are known. The technique of art is to make objects "unfamiliar," to make forms difficult, to increase the difficulty and length of perception because the process of perception is an aesthetic end in itself and must be prolonged. Art is a way of experiencing the artfulness of an object; the object is not important.5

Indeed, Peiper's mature poetry might be considered as one long essay in narrative defamiliarisation. His style, while combining the modernists' atten-

Cinema uses defamiliarisation techniques to great effect. A typical example is the Sidney Lumet 1957 classic 12 Angry Men, starring Henry Fonda. In one of the scenes, the passing of time is indicated not by the conventional image of quickly moving clock hands, but by cigar­ ette butts accumulating in an ashtray. 5 Victor Shklovsky, "Art as Technique" in: Russian Formalist Criticism - Four Essays, transl. Lee T. Lemon and Marion J. Reis (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1965) 4 and 12-13. To add one of Shklovsky's own examples: "Tolstoy makes the familiar seem strange by not naming the familiar object. ... In describing something he avoids accepted names of its parts and in­ stead names corresponding parts of other objects. For example, in "Shame," Tolstoy "de- familiarizes" the idea of flogging in this way: "to strip people who have broken the law, to hurl them to the floor, and to rap on their bottoms with switches," and, after a few lines, "to lash about on the naked buttocks." Then he remarks:

Just why precisely this stupid, savage means of causing pain and not any other - why not prick the shoulders or any part of the body with needles, squeeze the hands or feet in a vise, or anything like that?

"I apologize for this harsh example," continues Shklovsky, "but it is typical of Tolstoy's way of pricking the conscience. The familiar act of flogging is made unfamiliar both by the description and by the proposal to change its form without changing its nature." Shklovsky, op. cit., 13.

153 tion to micro- and macroformal detail with the avant-gardists' attention to po­

etic timbre, offers a new look at both: it defamiliarises modernist techniques by

an intense search for new, denaturalised poetic "sonorities," and it de-

familiarises the often primitive methods of a purely instinctive organisation of

the material59 by "denaturalising" these sonorities through the application of

detailed, precise, constructivist methods of structuring: the whole procedure

intended to make poem ingrained in the sphere of geno-song: 'By metaphoris-

ing an object and incorporating it into the poem's fabric, I rework it in word.

In extreme cases total reshaping of the object takes place, in each of its proper­

ties and in each of its functions. The heedless critic [Irzykowski; here Peiper

polemicises with the latter's Metaphoritis] accuses me of "overabundance of

descriptive poems" and parallels this with the "hypertrophy of passive nobiliary

descriptiveness" [as in Polish Sarmatian poetry of the 17th and 18th Centuries].

This accusation is the more strange because, right at the beginning of Meta­

phoritis, he quotes my words in which it is clearly stated that I perceive meta­

phor as a non-descriptive poetic technique. Clear. What is description? It is

calling the faculties of an object by their own names [designates]. Metaphor is

not a name, so it cannot lead to description. My metaphorical operations

[strategies] are in fact intended to negate passive descriptiveness, because they

do not leave any object as is, untouched. On the contrary, each and every ob-

59 One has only to analyse the 'form' (or lack thereof) of some of the early works of the Futurist and Dada schools, whose structure was sometimes reduced to chains of crudely variegated lexi­ cal blocks (or even scraps) without any inner "logic." It is very telling to see how rapidly that experimental narrative "style" disappeared almost without a trace.

154 ject which is metaphorically filtered becomes something different, it changes in word. Sieved through word, it changes to such an extent as if only a powerful industrial technology of gigantic proportions was employed in the process.'60

What all this means, if the reading of Peiper's theory is correct here, is that first of all, he questioned the whole "immoderately" ritualised and hierarchical

Western tradition of creating, performing and perceptually absorbing a poetic work of art, and then proposed—at least within the realm of Polish poetry—an almost entirely new answer to that question, focussing on a network of narra­ tive relationships between the performer (the poet and her/his interpreter), the work, and the reader/listener (Peiper often stressed the importance of proper reading aloud). The process of establishing that network of relationships would now become denaturalised - the conventional relationships between

Greimas's ' actants would be socially redefined, becoming one organic whole whose constituents would inform each other via the creative/re­ creative/perceptual collective transfer of (not infrequently conflicting) desires.

Tadeusz Peiper, Tedy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 297. 'Metaforyzuj^c przedmiot i wcielajac go w budowe^ poematu, przetwarzam go w slowie. W wypadkach kraficowych dokonuje sie^ calkowite przepostaciowanie przedmiotu, kazdej jego wlasciwosci i kazdej czynnosci. Tymczasem nieopatrzny krytyk zarzuca mi „nadmiar poematow opisowych" i zestawia go z ..hipertrofia^ szlacheckiej biernej opisowosci". Zarzut to tym dziwniejszy, ze zaraz na wstepie Metaphoritis cytuje moje slowa w ktorych jasno uwidacznia sie^ moje pojmowanie metafory jako nie opisowego sposobu poetyckiego. Jasne. Co to jest opis? Jest to wymienianie cech przedmiotu ich nazwami. Metafora nie jest nazw^, wi^c nie moze prowadzic do opisu. Moje operacje metaforyczne sa_ wr^cz zaprzeczeniem biernej opisowosci, bo nie pozostawiaja^ zadnego przedmiotu jakim jest, lecz kazsy w slowie przetwarzaja^ i kazdy, przeszedlszy przez nie, wychodzi z niego zmieniony, tak zmieniony, ze w ten sposob moglaby go przerobic tylko jakas wyolbrzymiona technika fabryczna.' ' Cf. Algirdas Julien Greimas, "Les actants, les acteurs et les figures" in: Claude Chabrol (Ed.), Semiotique narrative et textuelle (Paris: Larousse, 1973); eadem, "Narrative Grammar: Units and Levels" in: Modern Language Notes, 1971, No. 86, 793-806; eadem, "Elements of narrative grammar" in: Diacritics, 1977, No. 7, 23-40.

155 This could be achieved through: i) the "denaturalisation" of the sender/helper

(i.e.: of performers AND artistic sources, including individual poems); ii) the

"denaturalisation" of the object (i.e.: of the poetic work and its aesthetic sub­ stance); and iii) the "denaturalisation" of the subject/receiver (i.e. of audiences and their perception of the medium and of the object).

If denaturalisation of the sender/helper is based on making relations be­ tween performers (poets, interpreters) and their instruments (i.e. poems) am­ biguous (the poems become "meta-instruments"), and on making familiar ob­ jects (typography, recitation) sound unfamiliar, then denaturalisation of the

object (the aesthetic substance of the work) in its totality is effectuated by a

qualitative and quantitative re-examination of its primary elements. In other words, the long-accepted, conventional Western notion of poetry as an im­

mediately identifiable visual/aural phenomenon demonstrating a high degree

of organisation and intended to give aesthetic pleasure, has been "cruelly" re­

evaluated and replaced by a new notion - the affirmation of denotative nega­

tives and extremes by means of metaphors; that is, those narrative phenomena

which either did not exist (and had to be invented) or existed on the fringes of

poetry, or in imagination only. To put it in the briefest of terms, in Peiper's po­

etry pure, "beautiful," conventionally produced narrative has been replaced by

what is traditionally considered metaphoric "noise." That metaphoric "noise,"

very thoroughly conceived, generated, shaped and composed/constructed (put

within the context of other similar or dissimilar "noises"), interacts with such

156 elements as, among others, i) constantly fluctuating pace (in Peiper's poetry one cannot really feel changes of "tempo" but rather changes of pace, as in hu­ man speech; ii) predominantly fluid "energies" (designed to replace conven­ tional poetic rhythms); iii) multilayered "noise strata" (these vertical complexes which replace ordinary syntactic harmonies that make use of collections of well-defined topoi result, of course, from the superimposition of various meta­ phorical layers of "noise"); and, last but not least, iv) extreme, either very soft

or very loud, poetic "dynamics," preference being given to the latter. Alto­ gether, these new elements remain in organic interaction and help change the

nature of the work's morphology.

Denaturalisation of the sender/helper and of the object is complemented by

that of the subject/receiver - now the poet places the subject/receiver under

the most demanding (strenuous?) circumstances, coercing the reader/listener

to grapple with forces quite relentlessly and unforgivingly different from the

standard axioms and oppressive conventions of the poetic performance (be it

reading or recitation). The reader's/listener's (receiver's) ultimate reactions

turn the traditional, self-perpetuating and highly artificial process of reception

into a psychodrama of sorts, but, ironically perhaps, like the Greek tragedians

before him, Peiper also wants his listener to experience awe.62

[III.9] Indeed, despite the existing common misapprehensions (mainly voiced

Some writers, including Peiper, note his (own) idealistic belief that the audiences' habitual behaviour and responses to new poetry can be changed.

157 by the early critics of his poetry, who simply did not possess any reliable com­ parative resource), Tadeusz Peiper has been associated with introducing the

concept of multilevel "open" reading of text, a truly inspirational concept, which predates, among others, that of Umberto Eco's "open form" (or "open work") as applied to the work of art, be it musical or literary. Peiper himself

often spoke of 'non-metaphorical' and 'metaphorical' ("psychographic" or "psy­

cho-philological") readings (literary analysis), the former term referring to lit­

erary forms, mainly narrative prose, based on predetermined linear develop­

ment, and the latter suggestive of indeterminate, multilevel morphology, as in

metaphor-based poetry. But the issue of "non-metaphorical" ("closed") vs.

"metaphorical" ("open") reading is a bit more complex than this, for reducing

the concept to two aspects only, "closeness" and "openness," is an oversimplifi­

cation. In the 20th Century a multitude of formal concepts and procedures ap­

peared, often complementing, but not identical with, one another. Terms such

as, on the one hand, "closed form," "stabile," and, on the other hand, "open

form," "mobile," "collage," "ambiguous form" have been used - sometimes

interchangeably. This led to chaos. Umberto Eco's concept of "open work" is,

albeit on a slightly different level, an attempt at putting some order into this

chaos, yet, elegant though it is, it is not free from constatations some of which

may well be questioned - and certainly deserve to be expounded and put in

comparative context with some of Peiper's theoretical propositions.

Let us examine Eco's theory. To elucidate his reasoning, Eco draws upon

158 the current (at that time - his contemporary) classical music (!), which is gen­ erally referred to as the "European Avant-garde." Eco begins with enumerating

'recent pieces of instrumental music [which] are linked by a common feature: the considerable autonomy left to the individual performer in the way he chooses to play the work. Thus he is not merely free to interpret the com­ poser's instructions following his own discretion (which in fact happens in tra­ ditional music), but he must impose his judgment on the form of the piece, as when he decides how long to hold a note or in what order to group the sounds: all this amounts to an act of improvised creation.'63 Eco's examples include

Karlheinz Stockhausen's Klavierstiick XI (1956), Luciano Berio's Sequenza I for

flute (1958), Henri Pousseur's Scambi for electroacoustic media (1957), and

Pierre Boulez's Third Piano Sonata (1955-57 - ). The Italian semiotician admits

that aesthetic theorists employ terms such as "completeness" and "openness" in

connection, on the one hand, with authors' communicative efforts to give their

works (artefacts) concrete, unchangeable shapes 'to be appreciated and re­

ceived in the same form as [they devised them];' on the other, with addressees'

idiosyncratic interpretations of those works, interpretations always connected

to the addressees' existential credentials, their sense of individual conditioning,

cultural values, tastes, personal inclinations and prejudices. Says Eco: 'In fact,

the form of the work of art gains its aesthetic validity precisely in proportion to

the number of different perspectives from which it can be viewed and under-

3 Umberto Eco, The Role of the Reader. Explorations in the Semiotics of Texts (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1984) 47.

159 stood.' 4 An artefact is then both "closed" (as an organic formal whole) and

"open" as an object deemed to be interpreted. He then states that the main dif­ ference between the conventionally conceived work and the new, "open" one is the latter's state of "unfinishedness." The performer receives a specific set of building blocks and finishes the unfinished. Yet therein lies the problem, as one thing is clear: the works which Eco selected to illustrate his argument may, indeed, be formally "open," yet their formal openness never leads to blurring—

or breaking!—the then (1950's) fashionable communicative code which the authors had chosen. (Eco refers to this code as 'postdodecaphonic serial

composition.'65) In other words it does not matter much if they are "open," or

not. Moreover, those "open" works are open in a very limited mode, as their

authors did not hesitate to impose upon the performer some fairly rigid rules of

how to construct the musical edifice from the provided components. This is

exceptionally easy to infer when dealing with the Berio, the Boulez and the

Stockhausen. The Pousseur may differ in that it allows for deceptively greater

creative freedoms, yet the outcome of these freedoms—Pousseur calls them a

"field of possibilities"—may not necessarily be breathtaking.66 To put it briefly,

whatever the performer does (or will do), the anonymity of the decentralised

material, as well as its limited formal synergy (and 'open' works are about syn­

ergy), will prevent any significant interpretative shift from taking place. It is

4 Ibidem, 49. 5 Ibidem, 55. Cf. The "Scambi Project"

160 true that Eco later admits that: 'The multiple polarity of a serial composition in

music, where the listener is not faced by an absolute conditioning centre of re­

ference, requires him to constitute his own system of auditory relationships.

He must allow such a centre to emerge from the sound continuum. Here are

no privileged points of view, and all available perspectives are valid and rich in

potential.'67 But it is—indeed and precisely—this lack of such a centralised

point of reference in these works, it is this ugly void of stylistic anonymity of

serialism, which—in case of avant-garde and experimental works—so often

leads the addressee to avoiding vigorously the joys of 'constituting his system

of auditory relationships.' For no matter to what extent the FORM be "open"

and flexible (in avant-garde and experimental works an often makeshift mould

to be filled with stuff), if the CONTENT be not "open" and flexible also, the

process of communication will be similar to that of the "closed" work. And

when Eco maintains that '[a]n author can foresee an 'ideal reader affected by an

ideal insomnia' (as happens with Finnegans Wake), able to master different

codes and eager to deal with the text as with a maze of many issues. But in the

last analysis what matters is not the various issues in themselves but the maze-

lake structure of the text. You cannot use the text as you want, but only as the

text wants you to use it. An open text, however "open" it be, cannot afford

whatever interpretation;' he really seems to have at least partially ignored the

project of the American experimental tradition in general, and that of Earle

7 Eco, op. cit., 61.

161 Brown (and John Cage) in particular. The crux of the matter is that first Brown, and then Cage—in that order—proposed to open the work to the extent of its

reaching into nothingness - and back. Given the subsequent development of avant-garde aesthetics, the consequences of this gesture are hard to overesti­

mate. Brown's decision was congenial in its simplicity - give 'em absolute free­

dom. In his graphic score (i.e. from which any reference to the conventional

music notation is avoided, the signs replaced by system of lines and rectangles

of various length and thickness, randomly placed on the page), December '52,

there is really no form, and no substance, or, rather, form and substance are

one in the absolute sense. The score may be interpreted, as Brown himself did,

in a quasi "postdodecaphonic serial" fashion; it may be interpreted, as Gordon

Mumma once did, as a narrative based on accumulating preselected non-

traditional timbres;68 it may be interpreted as a collection of separate a c

t i o n s (each of the graphs denoting an event instead of a single

note); it may be interpreted as an acoustic, or as an electroacoustic piece;69

going even further, it may be interpreted as a collage in which each graph

may be substituted for by, say, a fragment excerpted from another piece. [To

digress a little, it seems that Boguslaw Schaeffer is again correct when pointing

to collage as a creative technique—and not form, the title of his important work

Earle Brown, Commentary on December'52, recorded in Berlin on 27 November 1970. The Earle Brown Music Foundation . 9 See for instance Michael Doherty's rendition of November 52, December '52 and Four Systems involving piano, computer and electronics, available on Earle Brown. Selected Works 1952-1965, New World Records 2006 (80650-2).

162 Collage and Form being clearly indicative of this viewpoint—which is extra­ ordinarily attractive and fertile within the "open" framework. Because of its heterogeneous nature, collage brings about immediate rewards (instant gratifi­ cation of sorts) to its authors and addressees alike. 'Unrelated elements,' says

Schaeffer, 'do not have anything in common, yet at the same time, in a work of art, one does sense the rationale behind this new, unintegrated combination...

One more thing seems to be important: collage must take into consideration audibility of simultaneous combinations, its components must be aurally re­ cognisable. If in other compositional techniques the aural result does not have to be focussed on audibility of elements and on analytical transparency of the

initial material (and there it is possible and does make sense), here this audi­

bility is significant; additionally, in collage it is more important to hear and

aurally distinguish its elements rather than the whole.'70]

It is this little, one-page score of December '52 (and its conceptual side)

which in a simple, ascetic way anticipates other similar aesthetic phenomena in

whose infinite re-creating not only the author and the transmitter, but also the

receiver may freely invest their 'existential credentials, their sense of individual

conditioning, cultural values, tastes, personal inclinations and prejudices' - and

in whose infinite re-creating they may participate on equal footing.

In many other works Brown and other avant-gardists have travelled beyond

the basic notion of "open" form as consisting of linear reordering of its seg-

70 Boguslaw Schaeffer, Maty informator muzyki XX wieku (Krakow: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne, 1975) 30-31.

163 ments. Again, their solutions are impressive in their effortlessness: they pro­ jected onto form the three main methods of arranging serialised pitch-classes, i.e. horizontal, vertical and diagonal. Now form may be built of segments fol­ lowing each other in horizontal succession, or overlapping diagonally, or being juxtaposed vertically (as in Milhaud's Double Quartet, Op. 291).

In spite of its somewhat limited positioning, Eco's concept is perhaps the most universal, the most complete attempt at generalising the nature of aesthetic "openness," especially in its final thesis that '[w]e have, therefore, seen that (i) "open" works, insofar as the are in movement, are characterized by the

invitation to make the work together with the author and that (ii) on a wider

level (as a subgenus in the species 'work in movement') there exist work which,

though organically completed, are 'open' to a continuous generation of internal

relations which the addressee must uncover and select in his act of perceiving

the totality of incoming stimuli, (iii) Every work of art, even though it is pro­

duced by following an explicit or implicit poetics of necessity, is effectively

open to a virtually unlimited range of possible readings, each of which causes

the work to acquire new vitality in terms of one particular taste, or perspective,

or personal performance.'71 Yet, by taking into consideration the much earlier

corresponding project of Peiper, one might certainly broaden investigative ho­

rizons.

Interestingly, what Peiper wrote about "psycho-philological" reading is

71 Eco, op. cit., 63.

164 comparatively very close to Eco's propositions. 'Decidedly, we have to elevate the culture of reading above the level of illiteracy, only now conquered. In all fields of our knowledge new methods of enquiry beg for being introduced.

Psycho-philology (or however we call that science) inferences the author in many ways. The time has come when we should make these ways stop being but laboratory craze, rich obsessions, something exclusively for scholars and science. If this discipline leads to knowing the truth, why should only a scholar use it? An enlightened reader may use it as well. Why should the achieve­ ments of science be on the loose, even when they can perfectly cohabit with the whole of intellectual life? Why should not reading and joy stemming from it

enrich themselves through new components? Decidedly, we have to elevate

the culture of reading above the level of illiteracy, only now overcome...'72

Briefly put, Peiper suggests that the process of reading, set in motion by meta­

phors which change connotative dimensions of words ('two metaphors make a

single phenomenon two different things'),73 make it possible for a new, active

reader to experience a variety of interpretative choices, even within limited po­

etic frameworks (as in Nog a). The poem is "open" to interpretations - and it is

Tadeusz Peiper, Tqdy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 307. 'Stanowczo trzeba dzwignac kulture^ czytania ponad poziom przezwycieionego analfabetyzmu. We wszystkich dziedzinach naszej wiedzy nowe metody badari. Psychofilologia (czy jak tarn nazwac tq naukej wnioskuje o autorze tylu sposobami, czas by te sposoby przestafy bye szaleristwem gabinetowym, bogatym maniactwem, czyms tylko dla uczonych i tylko dla nauki. Jesli ta nauka prowadzi do prawdy, czemuz ma jq stosowac tylko naukowiec, gdy moze J4 stosowac takze oswiecony czytelnik. Dlaczego zdo- bycze naukowe maja^ istniec luzem, nawet wtedy gdy mogq zzyc sie^ jednolicie z caloscia^ zycia umyslowego. Dlaczego czytanie i radosc, jaka^ ono sprawia, nie ma sie^ wzbogacic nowymi skladnikami. Stanowczo trzeba dzwignac kulture^ czytania ponad poziom przezwycie/zonego analfabetyzmu.' Ibidem, 306.

165 now up to the readers to proceed in whatever direction they choose. This idea, close to Umberto Eco's concept of "open" work (and, naturally, "open" reading), is well complemented by Peiper's notion of the reader as an emancipated (and having equal rights) part of the process of a literary work's existence (function­ ing). To him, in the act of creation of a (literary) work, the reader appears as a constitutive force equal to the author. And hence the concept of poetry being denominative of the perceptual curiosity of the reader. The work is "open" to the reader's honest attempt. Idealistic though this early stance on "openness" was - it indeed opened new vistas before aesthetic reflection.

[III.io] Peiper the theorist of the new literature and arts; Peiper the apostle of the metropolis, the mass, the machine; Peiper the protagonist of the progress­

ive urban civilisation - these are certainly stereotypes which sometimes still

hover over the readings of his narratives, and which have right from the start

reflected the most widespread impressions of his creative and social philosophy

and interpretations of his discourse as a whole. Peiper himself fought against

such a simplistic perception of his integral system. In a letter to the

Miesiqcznik Literacki [The Literary Monthly], published there in April 1930,74 a

response to Aleksander Wat's article, "Metamorfozy futuryzmu" [Metamorph­

oses of Futurism], which appeared the previous month, he disagreed with the

74 Tadeusz Peiper, 'List do redakcji "Miesi^cznika Literackiego'" [Letter to the Editorial Board of The Literary monthly] in: Miesiecznik Literacki, [930, No. 4 (April). Aleksander Wat, "Meta­ morfozy futuryzmu" [Metamorphoses of Futurism], published in No. 3 (March). Quoted in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), O wszystkim ijeszcze o czyms, op. cit., 197-199.

166 author who had suggested that Zwrotnica 'proclaimed the aesthetic shift in the direction of "urbanism,"' the statement printed in the text as if it were Peiper's own quote. 'I have never used the term "urbanism/" says Peiper, 'and not without a reason. When I spoke about the role of the city in art, I outlined such a role in a detailed way, that's all. I did so to avoid introducing yet an­ other empty "ism" [into the critical discourse]... So, now that it came about that each poet to whom city constitutes a theme is called "urbanist," is it worth

maintaining a separate term for such a simple thing? It is as if to call Futurists

all those who write about the future.'75 Terminological issues aside, Peiper

made it clear that there was more to his method of reasoning, and expressing it verbally, than many readers would have noticed.

This holds especially true in a certain additional context, for there is also

another Peiper: Peiper the author of erotic poetry, to some - his greatest ar­

tistic achievement. In his much discussed essay, "Etymologia swiata" [Ethy-

mology of the World], Ryszard Krynicki (b. 1943), one of the leading poets of

post-1945 Poland and a very important member of the so-called New Wave

generation,76 refers to Peiper as the 'master of erotic verse,' whose oeuvre begs

Ibidem, 197. 'Terminem urbanizmu nie poshigiwalem sie^ nigdy i nie bez przyczyny. Kiedy mowiiem o roli miasta w sztuce, okresliiem szczegoiowo t^ rol^, i koniec. Czynilem tak, aby uniknac rozpowszechnionego u nas izmowania... Skoro doszlo do tego, ze kazdego poete^ pisz^cego na temat miasta nazywa sie^ u nas urbanist^, czy warto dla tak prostej sprawy utrzymywac odrebnq nazwe? To tak, jakby kazdego, kto pisze o przyszlosci, nazywano futuryst^.' 7 Cf. Jakub Kozaczewski,. Polska tradycja literacka w poetyce Nowej Fali [Polish Literary tradition in the Poetics of the New Wave] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Naukowe Akademii Pedagogicznej, 2004).

167 reevaluation.77 There are a number of erotic poems in Peiper's output, or poems whose plots include erotic motifs - they are, indeed, of high calibre and are of much importance to Peiper scholarship. To this "erotic" body of works belongs Noga and several other poems.78 In the first two volumes of his poetry, says Stanislaw Jaworski, A and Zywe linie [Living Lines], Peiper included nine erotic poems, out of forty.79 This number (nine) is not written in stone and

might easily be modified - in fact, there are no less than nine erotic poems in

these two volumes, and in all probability more, to which must be added four

more published in Raz [Once], which comprises eight poems altogether. Evi­

dently, such statistics are never fully reliable, but an interesting tendency is re­ vealed when looking at the consecutive volumes: the number of erotic poems

increases from volume to volume. They make up 20 per cent of A, 30 per cent

of Zywe linie, and 50 per cent of Raz. The count of verse lines corroborates this;

moreover, in terms of such numbers, Raz is dominated by the erotic. Jaworski

bluntly speaks of Peiper's 'erotic obsession' in his poetry, which manifests itself

in spite of his objections80 (subconsciously?).

It is strange poetry, as according to Andrzej K. Waskiewicz, who in turn fol-

Ryszard Krynicki, "Etymologia swiata" [Ethymology of the World] in: Jerzy Leszin-Koperski (Ed.), Za progiem wyboru [Beyond the Threshold of Choice] (Warszawa: Zrzeszenie Studentow Polskich, 1969) 39. 78 Janusz Slawinski's dismissive statement—he was talking about Noga—implying that this type of Peiper's poetry belongs to the Baroque 'jeweller-confectioner silky' tradition, invites to be challenged. Janusz Slawinski, "Poetyka i poezja Tadeusza Peipera," op. cit., 73. 79 Stanislaw. Jaworski, Upodstaw awangardy. Tadeusz Peiper pisarz i teoretyk. [At the Foundations of the Avant-garde. Tadeusz Peiper - Writer and Theoretician] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1980) 120. Ibidem, 119. 168 lows Kazimierz Wyka's argumentation, Peiper's rationalist programmes - the poetic programme and the social(ist) programme - could not easily be bent to serve the purpose of Romantic-like emotional eruptions.81 Wyka explains that the Krakow Avant-garde generally rejected notions such as irrationality and subconsciousness. Its programme, which Wyka refers to as "Social Construc­ tivism," did not allow for the employment of depth psychology in the creative process: 'A marriage between a complex and a skyscraper is rather foreign to

Polish innovators,' says he good-humouredly.82 In Peiper's poetry, Waskiewicz

continues in the same vein, the erotic assumes rationalised forms.

Although Peiper, the theorist, never wrote anything directly related to his

understanding and subsequent exploration of the erotic topoi, or to how they

could be embedded in a [modern] poetic narrative, there exists however a brief

article—Peiper's usual snappy response to some critics—in which he presented

something analogous to taking a stance in this respect. It is entitled "O

ordynarnosci" [On Coarseness] and appeared on February 1923 in the fourth

issue of Zwrotnica.83 Says Peiper:

They speak about Achilles' heel. One will have to speak about Achilles' genitals. There are critics who see our weakness in our groin. Because of its size deficiency? Oh, no, because of its oversize. Anxious critics complained about the excessive amounts of sperm in the third issue of

Andrzej K. Waskiewicz. W krqgu "Zwrotnicy, op. cit., 42; Kazimierz Wyka, "Z lawy metafor" [From the Lava of Metaphors] in: Rzecz wyobrazni [A Matter of Reality] (Warszawa: Paristwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1977) 34off. Q-y Kazimierz Wyka, ibidem, 342. 3 Tadeusz Peiper, "O ordynarnosci" [On Coarseness] in: Zwrotnica, 1923, No. 4, 92-93. The 1930 edition of Peiper's theoretical texts, Tqdy, gives the article another title, "Poezja ciala" [Po­ etry of the Body] and does away with the opening paragraph (censorship?). That paragraph is quoted in endnotes in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.) Tqdy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 96. 169 Zwrotnica and spoke about coarseness. Coarseness? No. New philosophy of life! Literary usage of words commonly uttered in whisper does not result from cynicism, or even from the desire to refresh metaphor. It is a conscious search for new attitudes towards things polluted by alien factors. The idea is to restore rights to those experiences, which particularly here, a country of Ca­ tholicism and mystical poetry, were unfairly degraded. The idea is to defend the body. The idea is to defend those human instincts, in which are best manifested man's adoration of life, health and will to power. ^

Obviously, strong Nietzschean and Bergsonian echoes notwithstanding, Peiper

turns against his (or, Zwrotnica's) accusers, and becomes an accuser himself,

staunchly defending creative freedom as well as attacking and reprimanding

prudishness, where, according to him, there should be none of it. Here, we are just one step away from a poetic micro-manifesto, defined thus:

Up until now, our poetry worshipped love in its flowers, but was bash­ fully silent about its roots. It stopped on that level, where the voice of love was no longer that of sex. [Today] the idea is to notice pro­ found poetry in the body's own life. Certainly, the new poets, heal­ thy and smelling of life, think about Eros less than the poets of any other time, but—precisely because of that—they do not dress his statue in tricots. Coarseness? 5

Despite its brevity, Peiper manages to propose a programme that, contrary to

Tadeusz Peiper, "O ordynarnosci" in: Zwrotnica, ibidem, 92-93. Ibidem, 93. The Polish original goes as follows: 'Mowi sie^ o pi^cie Achillesowej. B^dzie trzeba tez mowic o Achillesowych genitaliach. S3 krytycy, ktorzy jedyna^ nasza slabosc widzq w naszej slabiznie. Z powodu jej brakow? O nie, z powodu jej nadmiarow. Zaniepokojeni krytycy skarzyli sie^ na nadmiar spermy w 3-im zeszycie «Zwrotnicy» i mowili o ordynarnosci. Ordynarnosc? Nie. Nowa filozofia zycia! Literackie uzywanie slow, zwykle wymawianych szeptem, nie wynika ani z cynizmu, ani nawet z ch^ci odswiezenia metafory. Jest ono swiadomym szukaniem nowego stosunku do spraw zanieczyszczonych obcymi czynnikami. Chodzi o przywrocenie praw przezyciom, ktore szczegolnie u nas, w kraju katolicyzmu i poezji mistycznej, byry nieslusznie degradowane. Chodzi o obrone^ ciala. Chodzi o obrone^ tych pop^dow czlowieka, w ktorych wyraza sie^ najsilniej jego umilowanie zycia, jego zdrowie i jego sila zdobywcza. Nasza poezja dotychczasowa wielbila milosc w jej kwiatach, milczac wstydliwie o jej korzeniach. Zatrzymywala sie^ na warstwie, na ktorej glos milosci nie byl juz glosem pfci. Chodzi o dostrzezenie gl^bokiej poezji w zyciu ciala. Na pewno nowi poeci, zdrowi i pachnacy zyciem, mySla^ o Erosie mniej niz poeci jakichkolwiek innych czas6w, ale - wlasnie dlatego - nie okrywaj^ jego pos^gu w trykoty. Ordynarnosc?'

170 some interpretations, would indeed offer 'a marriage between a complex and a skyscraper.' Kazimierz Wyka hints at it indirectly, when he says that the irra­ tional and the subconscious were the spheres avoided to a greater extent by

Julian Przybos, rather than Peiper.86 Of course, Peiper would never allow to be

entirely swept away by the lures of Freudian glamour, but in some cases one

may wonder if his pronounced dislike for depth psychology did not give way to the opposite stance.

Peiper's eroticism is at first matter-of-factly, rather cold, unemotional. In

his Na rusztowaniu [On the Scaffolding] he begins by addressing his discourse

partner thus:

The day rushes into the hand of bees. Bricklayer on the scaffolding, how am I to dream, how am I to dream the world on the veil of roses.

Governed by glances you send at me the silver cavalry of your words, the silver cavalry and a smile, which from a tower shoots needles into the poles on which my planks flower, yellow clouds of wood. Seamstress of dreams, over the eyes of day you slide the dreamy coats of shadow over the open eyes of day.

The opening two-line stanza is easy to understand. At the moment, a man,

busy at work (cf. the classic metaphor making use of the plural noun "bees,"

here refreshingly worded), has no time for anything else, let alone the pleasures

of interacting with another person, the metonymy "the world on the veil of

roses" denoting a woman, naturally. However, he is tempted by her, and con­

flict arises. The woman's actions may be seen as egoistic attempts at subjugat-

Kazimierz Wyka, op. cit., 34off.

171 ing the man. While analysing this section, Waskiewicz neatly refers to the po­ etic ideas of Baroque conceptism, where are habitually found examples of metaphorising courtship through similes featuring besieged fortresses and the like. But in Peiper's poem here discussed, the conventional model is turned inside out (or upside down); it is the woman who takes the initiative. If man symbolises everyday activism, productive action, devotion to physical exertion; if his time is that of day (time for work), his colour is that of gold, daylight, and the Sun, then woman, in this metaphorical context, is the real pursuer (be­ sieger); she is the one who attacks him with "silver cavalry of words,"—silver traditionally being associated with night and the Moon87—as well as with a siege tower, trying to destroy the foundations upon which he has erected the temple of productive labour. Here, one recognises distant echoes of Romantic and, even more strongly, Modernist (post-Romantic) poetic concepts; they are probably much more pronounced here than Peiper would have liked them to be, yet by no means do they threaten the poem's aesthetic integrity.

It is admirable how Peiper uses in it the technique of musical ritardando, a gradual decrease in the narrative tempo, beginning with a strong Kopfmotiv

[German for head-motif], setting the narrative in motion at an energetic pace:

'The day rushes into the hand of bees. Bricklayer on the scaffolding, how am I

7 Such associations are eminently strong in Polish poetry, in the 20th Century the most notable examples being Jan Lechori and Konstant Ildefons Galczyriski (1905 -1953).

172 to dream...' The verb "dream" serves as a link to the more extended bridge, in which the initial bright, major tonality—"rush," "[busy] bees"—modulates into its minor opposition. The actual ritardando has already begun: 'how am I to dream the world on the veil of roses.' This is enforced by the feminine ccesura.

After a moment of a slightly faster speed: 'you send at me the silver cavalry..., which shoots a needle into the poles on which my planks flower,' the ritar­ dando reaches its ultimate state, suspended, almost frozen in time: 'Seamstress

of dreams, over the eyes of day you slide the dreamy coats of shadow / over the

open eyes of day.' What really makes this passage a feat of poetic virtuosity in

shaping the narrative tempo is the cadential repetition of the metonymy 'over

the eyes of day... over the open eyes of day,' at which point a masculine ccesura

occurs and the narrative comes to a temporary halt.

What happens next is equally interesting. One, long stanza follows:

But bricks I will not throw away, nor will I drop the trowel. Go. Go? Go! Fruitful fats of the earth smell round, the hymn of bees teaches how to build, a glare ploughs the roost with matches, the wind counts my fingers, forces the hammer into my hand and, pointing to the world, points at the ovary where the deed hatches. Love: A night in a shirt of silence after a day in a harness of laurels. The flowers which you intend to give me - How am I to kiss these fragrant crochet needles with which you want to jail me, and dress yourself in wings. Go!! Where men build, women wait behind the fence till it's time!! Come back at six. And forgive me my words swollen with lime.

'Bridge passage. Term commonly applied to the section in a sonata exposition which modulates from the tonic to the dominant or relative major; it is also used more generally for any linking section.' Stanley Sadie (Ed.), The Norton/Grove Concise Encyclopedia of Music (New York - London: W.W. Norton & Company,i994) 113

*73 At this juncture the narrative tempo returns to its initial, faster pace. The male

protagonist breaks the spell put on him earlier and, after a moment of hesita­

tion: 'Go. Go? Go!,' vigorously countermands the woman's orders (or attempts

at weakening his resistance). In fact, he wakes up from a momentary dream -

he now realises that his place is on the scaffolding, peopled with his comrades

('a glare ploughs the roost with matches' - this obscure periphrastic construct

may denote lines of labourers lighting cigarettes at irregular intervals; it is

worth knowing that Peiper smoked heavily; he even rolled his own cigarettes).

Before this happens the opening Kopfmotiv reappears, now developed, ex­

tended, enforced: 'the hymn of bees teaches how to build.' Natural elements

('wind') do not distract or induce into a reverie; on the contrary, they

strengthen determination. Nature itself, slyly exploited by the woman: 'the

flowers which you intend to give me - How am I to kiss these fragrant crochet

needles with which you want to jail me, and dress yourself in wings,' becomes

nothing but annoyance. And then the rather brutal stretto89 ensues, indirectly

quoting earlier motifs: 'Go!! Where men build, women wait behind the fence

till it's time!!,' and leading to a coda90 and the final cadence: 'Come back at six.

And forgive me my words swollen with lime,' in which a somewhat grudging

apology is offered, perhaps reconciliation is intended to release the previously

9 'Stretto. (1) In fugue, the introduction of two or more subject entries in close succession... (2) The term is sometimes used, alternatively with stretta, to indicate a faster tempo at a point of climax, particularly in an operatic finale.' Stanley Sadie (Ed.), The Norton/Grove Concise Encyclopedia of Music, op. cit., 785. 90 'Coda. 'Tail': the last part of a piece or melody; an addition to a standard form or design. In fugue the coda is anything occurring after the last entry of the subject, in sonata form anything coming after recapitulation.' Ibidem, 173.

174 created tension.91 This cadential formula, which brings forth a possibility of reconciliation and release, is an essential one.

Stanislaw Jaworski, following Julian Przybos who called Peiper's erotic po­ etry as "autocentric" (self-centred),92 describes Peiper's protagonist in terms of a Modernist, Romantic-like lonely hero who, after the habitually prolonged, hard and often merciless struggle with his instincts, desires, infatuations - and conscience, in the end decides to live in the state justly ridiculed by Wilde as

"passionate celibacy,"93 all in the name of higher ideals and tasks.94 Jaworski draws analogies between Peiper's protagonists as they appear in his poems and

In Polish (multiple spaces between stanzas are Peiper's): Dzieri gna w dk>n pszczbl. Murarz na rusztowaniu, jak mam snic, jak mam snic swiat na roz woalu.

Pod wodz^ spojrzeri srebrna^ konnice^ twych slow slesz na mnie, srebrnq konnice^ i usmiech igla^ strzelaj^cy z wiez w pale na ktorych kwitna^ moje deski, zolte obloki z drzewa. Szwaczka snow na oczy dna zasuwasz senne powloki cienia na otwarte oczy dnia.

Lecz cegiel nie rzuce^ nie wypuszcz^ kielni. Idz. Idz? Idz! Wkolo wonieja^ robotne tluszcze ziemi, hymn pszczol uczy budowac, blask orze zapalkami grz^d^, wiatr liczy moje pake, mlotek pcha mi w rqkq i wskazuj^c swiat, wskazuje zal^znie, czynow. Milosd: noc w koszuli z ciszy po dniu upsz^rzy z wawrzynow. Kwiaty kt6re mi niesiesz - jak mam calowac te szydla wonne kt6rymi mnie chcesz uwiqzic, a siebie ubrac w skrzydla. Idz!! Gdzie budujq, tak kobiety czekaja^ za parkanem!! Wroc o szostej. I wybacz slowa wapnem wezbrane. 92 Julian Przybos, ""Zwrotnica" Tadeusza Peipera" in: Argument)/, i960, No. 3, 6; Eadem, Kornel Filipowicz, Kazimierz Bidakowski (Eds.), Cyganeria i polityka (Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1964) 31. 93 In The Importance of Being Earnest. 94 Stanislaw. Jaworski, op. cit., 116-117.

175 the supposedly autobiographical novel, Ma lat 22, and those of Przybyszewski and Zeromski: men possessed by their social (Zeromski) or artistic (Przy­ byszewski) missions, to whom personal involvement with another would lead to loss of focus on the needy (Zeromski)95 or of life force required during the act of artistic creation (as opposed to the act of sexual intercourse during which woman 'sucks man dry' and deprives him of creative energy - Przybyszewski).96

Helena Zaworska disagrees. She points out that while in Peiper's erotic verse that "autocentric," supreme, imperious attitude of the protagonist (narra­ tive voice, sender) is distinctly evident—perhaps as a 'recompense for uncer­ tainty, fears and the lack of fulfilment' (she emphasises her unwillingness to

'get into psychological interpretations')—one may question the validity of one­

sided analytical positioning: 'I do not think,' says Zaworska, 'that this anachro­

nistic conflict is to be found in Peiper's erotic poems. Rather, they attest to

[his] conviction that consciousness and clear perception stemming from order

which art imposes upon life, are able to rule over the dark domain of eroti­

cism.'97

The two closing lines of Na rusztowaniu support Zaworska's conclusions:

'Go!! Where men build, women wait behind the fence till it's time!! / Come

Ibidem, 117. 9 Ibidem, 116. 97 Helena Zaworska, "Awangarda krakowska" [The Krakow Avant-garde] in: Alina Brodzka, Helena Zaworska, Stefan Zolkiewski (Eds.) Literatura polska igi8 - igy^ [Polish Literature 1918 - 1975], Vol. I Literatura polska igi8-ig^2 (Warszawa: Wiedza Powszechna, 1975) 404. 'Nie sadz^, by erotyki Peipera kryry w sobie ten anachroniczny konflikt. S4 one raczej swiadectwem przekonania, ze takze nad ciemnq dziedzin^ erotyki moze zapanowac swiadomosc i jasnosc wynikajqca z ladu narzuconego zyciu przez sztuke/

176 back at six. And forgive me my words swollen with lime.' This is a far cry from the implied ultimate rejection of the demoniac female element. The poem, in which, it is true, Peiper encapsulated yet another take on the age-old literary and artistic topos, offers a compromising (hence a hardly satisfactory?) solu­ tion. The female competitor is not rejected - she is simply reduced to the role of man's dependant, a partner in pastime (and only that): 'Take it or leave it,' he says, 'I may or may not use you - but only after six.'

This ambiguous—not at all "utilitarian" or "rationalistic"—way of thinking is given a tangible variety in several other poems, of which Naszyjnik [The

Necklace] may be read as appendix to Na rusztowaniu. Naszyjnik again con­ trast the two opposite worlds present in the preceding poem, but here the situation is "perversely" reversed (assonance intended) in that it is the woman now who inhabits the world of light and brilliance; woman the conqueror, whose victories are easily won ('to conquer, you only need your eyes; you give a

look, you get what you want; everything is so close and cheap, at your hand').

The poem is divided into two parts: the first consists of four quatrains, which

may be read as an Apollonian ode, a quiet, emotionally measured, adoration of

the female element. In it, Peiper consciously plays with conventions and cre­

ates poetry permeated with the luxurious spirit of refined lexical beauty and

syntactical sophistication, found in Renaissance madrigal poetry and, later, in

Gongora and the Spanish Baroque culturanismo, (and not conceptismo, as

Slawihski and Waskiewicz want; these were two different, much separate, op-

177 posite in fact, orientations in Spanish poetry of the Baroque period!) - the latter at first a negative term, now a part of the Spanish literary scholarship's vocabu­

lary (this has happened so frequently regarding progressive artistic movements

that one does not need to talk about the terms "Impressionism" or "Fauvism"

here).

[What none of the Polish literary scholars have yet commented upon, and

this is a very attractive area of investigation, is the striking similarity between

controversies surrounding Gongora and his poetry and those criticisms Peiper's

person and, to a much larger extent, his poetry attracted (or was subjected to

by the token of customary habit). Given Peiper's "Spanish pedigree," a com­

parative study centring on the similarities between their poetic techniques and

respective fates of their so often unduly vivisected poetic oeuvre, would no

doubt yield fascinating results. Such a study is, however, beyond the scope of

this narrative.]

Continuing with the discussion on Naszyjnik, one of Peiper's greatest erotic

masterpieces, it appears that, in terms of compositional (poetic) technique and

its practical implementations - lexical and syntactical - and despite his general

claims to the contrary - he deliberately used the Baroque reference point(s) to

evoke specific expressive significations entailing the serene, reflexive, Andante

or even Tranquillamente, narrative tempi, allowing both for contemplation and

immediate enjoyment of the text, for these tempi are neither too fast, nor are

they too slow to prevent the ultimate addressees, the readers, from fully im-

178 mersing themselves in it. Wide spaces between stanzas help putting this poetic compositional technique into the astonishingly convincing effect.

The four stanzas constituting the main part of the ode, because an ode it is, could not be closer to how a presupposed corresponding musical commentary would proceed; the relaxed yet warm and inviting narrative is slow, suspended in time, there are no changes in narrative tempo. The narrator (the sender) stands at a distance, looking with wonder at the object of his desires. It is clear right from the beginning, that he is emotionally involved. He desires - and de­ sires only, for it is not likely that he counts on being desired. "Hope" is the only fully acceptable word here. By adoring the seemingly unattainable ad­

dressee, by addressing her directly in the string of "beautiful," superbly con­

ceived similes and astounding metaphors, he gives vent to his consciously sub­

dued passions, which for four rather long stanzas are kept in check to demon­

strate his willingness to understand all the customary, cultural (even economic:

"diamond," "jewel") and sexual determinants of the situation. Throughout the

entire first part of the poem, he is pleading by sanctifying the addressee - ex­

actly like Mahler did in his ecstatic—to use this overused word, but in Mahler's

case it is fully acceptable—symphonies.

And then the active representative of the narrative voice (the male protago­

nist) steps back to bow, offering her, the female addressee, the only ornament

(gratification) he can afford to give: 'a necklace of bricks and stones.' This is

the second part of the poem, the closing stanza, which formally has nothing to

179 do with the previous four. While they (the four stanzas constituting the bulk of the poem) are quatrains, in which "Baroque" intensity of one's experience reaches the preconceived level of extra-personal narrative involvement, the closing stanza brings the reader (the receiver) back to the laconic "avant-garde" poetic framework. Despite its concluding "punch lines," the last, fifth, stanza reads, and looks, as if written by another poet, pursuing another—different— poetic task, but without neglecting the contextual continuity of the previous part. It is the aesthetics of the «differend» used here, the aesthetics of the post- avantgarde, as epitomized later in Poland by, among others, Tadeusz Rozewicz

(which brings Bogdan Czajkowski's previously quoted comments into another

prospective) and the New Wave poets - but well ahead of their time, and much

differently. What is truly interesting about Naszyjnik, is its harmonious unifi­

cation of the Avant-garde poetics and the conventional narrative traits, very

clearly announcing the arrival of the all-inclusive, post-Modern (a very unlucky

and unnecessary term) paradigm. Presumably, in Polish letters between the

two great wars, Peiper was one of those who realised the absolute bareness of

orthodoxy (this statement is made contrary to the Polish literary scholarship

tradition), which ultimately led him to abandon poetry whatsoever.

Naszyjnik is, whether Peiper would have liked it to be so or not, the probing

foray into untapped territory; he transgressed the space which customs had

created for man and his environment - and his narrative counterpart. As well,

one notices the ambiguity between Apollonian (Naszyjnik) and Dionysian (Na

180 rusztowaniu) attributes, constantly wrestling within Peiper's erotic poetic self.

Your walls will speak light like vibrant silks like the song of pregnant mirrors when flower beds step inside them like a diamond in your ring or the Moon in your pupils.

In a barge of Parisian scents, on a ray of light = on a powdered pond time will flow toward white islands, where shouts only live like the shadows of echoes, a buzz in the censer.

You will speak about the world smiling like a sovereign ruler. Victory... to conquer, you only need your eyes; you give a look, you get what you want; everything is so close and cheap, at your hand.

You will be like a ray like a ray which sucked on the hottest hour, like a sentence sown in a garden of arms and firm braids, like a sound of breasts under silk, like a whisper of thighs, like a confession.

And I I, scaffolding's dirty hostage, will pull out of my pocket the heavy necklace made of bricks and stones, and this only jewel I can give you, I will throw round your neck. And then?98

9 In Polish (multiple spaces between stanzas are Peiper's): Sciany twoje b^da^ m6wity swiatlem jak barwne jedwabie jak piesri zaplodnionych zwierciadel kiedy w nie wstajna^ kwietniki jak brylant w twoim pierscionku lub ksi^zyc w twojej zrenicy.

W barce z paryskich woni,

181 So, what did Peiper really think, and why is his erotic poetry so ambiguous at times? Let us for a moment turn our attention to the often overlooked an­ swers Peiper gave in response to a survey on "modern woman," conducted by the Kurier Poranny [The Morning Courier]. The survey comprised three ques­ tions: I. "What changes do you notice in the psychical constitution of modern woman?' II. 'Do you approve of these changes, or not?' III. 'What should modern woman fight for?'

Peiper's answers are revealing and make up useful supplementary material for further investigation with respect to his erotic poetry. Says Peiper: 'The

po swietle = po upudrowanym stawie czas pfynac b^dzie ku biatym wyspom, gdzie krzyki zyJ4 juz tylko jako cienie ech, gwar w kadzielnicy.

B^dziesz m6wila o Swiecie z usmiechem uznanej wladczyni. zwyci^stwo... aby zwyci^zyc wystarcz^ tobie twe oczy; spojrzysz, juz masz; dla twej dloni wszystko jest bliskie i tanie.

B^dziesz jak promieri, jak promien co ssal z najgoretszej godziny, jak zdanie zasiane w ogrodzie z ramion i twardych warkoczy, jak dzwi^k piersi pod jedwabiem, jak szept ud, jak wyznanie.

Aja ja, brudny wi^zieri rusztowania, wyjme^ z kieszeni ci^zki naszyjnik z cegiel i kamieni, i te^ jedynq ozdobe^ jaka^ umiem dac zarzuce^ ci na szyj^. A wtedy?

182 most important changes, which occurred in woman today, are based on her right not to tell lies. The significance of this right lies not only in its moral aspect, but also, most deeply, in the vital one. The woman of the past had to lie in her speech, silence, lowered eyes, long and painfully tight dress, maybe even childbirth. She had to lie! Today she still often lies, too, but she does not have to. The change is considerable.' As reassuring as this first answer may at first seem, it also leads to wondering why Peiper used a rather clumsy expres­ sion, "right not to tell lies," instead of "right to earnestness" or, even better,

"right to say what she pleases." As if he—if the reading is correct—still hesi­ tated to allot women a place equal to men's. 'Today she still often lies... but she does not have to.' This, surely, is a curious spin on what he had already con­ veyed: although they do not have to, women still choose to lie. The gist of the answer, in other words, may be seen as posited on a false premise about women's psychological qualities as (still) inferior. The adverb 'often' confirms the suspicion of Peiper's patronising stance - as in some (yet only some) of his erotic verse.

Peiper then continues with his answer to the second question: 'Both I and my comrades from the innovative literary camp are convinced that the changes which have occurred in our woman's psyche (and man's psyche as well) are to no small measure due to our work. So, we follow their deepening impact with unanimous joy.' The less puzzling (and disappointing) of the two already given, this answer is no less characteristic of Peiper's own intellectual tem-

183 perament, projecting his own wishful thoughts onto reality.

The answer to the third question, that about the most immediate goals that lie ahead of women nowadays, Peiper is a bit more elaborate, seemingly very open-minded and progressive - and equally condescending; 'Apart from the struggle against accidental pregnancy... the closest targets of aggression should include those lexical components which belong to museums, such as, for in­

stance, habitual invasion of woman's intimate space by the all too rigid differ­

entiation between "miss" and "missus," the custom which does not have

any analogy in relation to how we address men; also, forcing a wife to accept

her husband's surname. Our language is characterised by important differ­

ences in the area of possessive forms of grammar. Those in which the wife ap­

pears as a possession of her husband have gotten a powerful foothold in our

speech, and therefore it is difficult to contest them - but the more difficult it is

to do the harder we should try. Woman should not be man's possession,

not because it debases her, but because it harms him. It is the owner who

should engage in the struggle against legal ownership; when he looses the own­

ership, he will benefit!'99 Exactly like in the final lines of Na rusztowaniu: it is

99 Tadeusz Peiper, "O kobiecie wspotczesnej" [On Woman Today] in: Kurier Poranny [The Morning Courier], 1932, No. 227, 16 August. Quoted in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), O wszystkim i jeszcze o czyms, op. cit., 256-257. 'I. Najwazniejsze zmiany, jakie dokonary sie^ wspotczesnie w kobiecie, maja^ za podstawej uzyskane przez niq prawo do nieklamania. Prawo to nie ma jednynie znaczenia moralnego, lecz najgt^biej witalne. Dawna kobieta musiala klamac mow^, milczeniem, spuszczonymi oczyma, druga^ i bolesnie obcisla^ suknia^ nawet rodzonymi dziecmi. Musiala kiamad! Dzisiaj cz^sto tez klamie, ale moze nie klamac. Zmiana doniosla.

184 man-the owner who must take matters into his own hands in order to help woman free herself from the shackles of convention - for the benefit of his own self!

The same (strenuous?) endeavour at avoiding attachment (however, in this particular case calling it misogynistic would be unwarranted and unfair to

Peiper) is seen in Pozegnanie z zukiem [Farewell To A Beetle] which, by the way, is not a part of Peiper's erotica, but a simple reminiscence of a fleeting moment in Paris, a leaflet from the poet's travelogue, imbued with unpreten­ tious, gentle and reflexive praise for personal freedom. Both two-line stanzas at the opposite ends of the poem entail unwillingness to become reliant on: 1) someone else's, i.e. woman's, wealth ("pocket"); 2) deceptive stability ("tent");

3) marriage ("bed"); 4) time management ("walls of crystal"); and 5) comfort of a fixed abode ("pillows") - if such a shorthand reading of these four otherwise baffling lines—and the rest of the poem is straightforward, not only by Peiper's standards—be allowed:100

II. Ja i moi towarzysze z nowatorskiego obozu literatury uwazamy, ze zmiany dokonafy sie^ w psychice naszej kobiety (a takze w psychice m^zczyzny) sa w niemalej mierze naszym dzielem. Ich pogk^bianie przyjmujemy wi^c ze zgodnym entuzjazmem. III. Obok walki z przypadkowoscia^ macierzyristwa... najblizszymi punktami agresji powinny sie^ stac zabytkowe skladniki mowy, np. Codzienne mieszanie sie^ w intymne sprawy kobiety przez zbyt scisle rozioznianie mi^dzy „panna" a „pania", nie majace wstosunku do m^zczyzny zadnej analogii, lub narzucanie zonie nazwiska m^zowskiego. Wprawdzie j^zykowi naszemu wlasciwe sq wazne odr^bnosci w zakresie dzierzawnych form gramatycznych, skutkiem tego te z nich, w ktorych zona wyst^puje jako wlasnosc rn^za, znajduja^ oparcie w duchu j^zyka i walka z nimi jest przez to trudna, ale im jest trudniejsza, tym razniej nalezy J4 podjac. Kobieta nie powinna bye wlasnoscia^ nujzczyzny, jednak nie dlatego ze to ja^ upokarza, lecz dlatego ze to szkodzi mf zczyznie. Walkej z prawem wlasnosci powinien podjac tu sam wlasciciel; tracac t^ wlasnosc zyska!' In Polish: W zadnej kieszeni nie rozbije^ namiotu

185 In no pocket will I pitch a tent nor will I allow to be chained in my bed.

I will not allow to chain my walls of crystal and in no pocket will I lay pillows of my luggage.

In Ja, try [I, You] this aversion to becoming a part of the stereotypical, tradi­ tional family unit is made very clear. A steady bond is not what the male pro­ tagonist wants. He does not mind an occasional encounter, but a stable, ongo­

ing relationship is not what he is after, it is outside of his personal space, which

must not be transgressed:

Your lips, a footpath of glitter and smiles, today, soldered with silence, are no longer on fire.

Sometimes love happens to be a romance. Also a telegram. I want to make your arm an oar, you would like to be a wife.

The last hour of the day reddens on cornices. The ink of dusk overflows the earth. In the cool tubs of streets bathes the sweaty face of passers by.

Give me your night tonight. Tonight. I will thrust myself into you, a type into paper, and become the day when I wake up at first light.

i nie dam zakuc w lancuch mego lozka.

Nie pozwolej zakuc w lancuch moich scian z krysztalu i w kieszeni nie rozbije^ poduszek z plecakow. Multiple spaces in the original, printed perpendicularly across the page, are Peiper's. In order to save space, here the Polish text is compressed into one block:

186 Bogdana Carpenter observes Peiper's preference for placing a woman in a pas­ sive position, at least in some of his poems. While analysing his Naga [Naked], in which are found metaphors and similes related to the ones employed in Ja, ty [the title itself is telling, as the author put his "I" before her "you"], Carpenter says: 'There is an opposition between the passivity of the woman and the sex­ ual, active, creative force of the man; the woman is a passive receptor like the white and silent paper on which the man-poet will write his words. She has no autonomy and is not even allowed to speak. The man's attitude is ambiguous, and hesitates between rejection and destruction...'102 But also self-destruction, like in Upadek [The Fall], in Peiper's erotic poetry a rare example of a direct re­ ference to the sexual act:

Hunger, hunger of hymens, hymens wide open like lips, hunger of hymens wide open like lips of a cup, like lips of a cup of scream and like a note from whose heart the black star vanished, took me—metal password—off a halberd, took me off a halberd, on which I was blossoming so hot, hunger of hymens open like a note in a cup knocked me off my trunk unto: unto a hair of foam.103

Usta twoje, chodnik lsnieii i usmiechow, dzisiaj, zalutowane milczeniem, nie plon^. / Milosc bywa romansem. Takze telegramem. / Ja chce^ z ramienia twego uczynic wioslo, ty chcialabys bye zonq. / Ostatnia godzina dnia czerwieni si$ na gzymsach. / Atrament zmierzehu rozlewa sie^ po ziemi. / W chlodnych wannach ulic kapie sie^ spocona twarz ludzi. / Daj mi twa^ noc dzisiejsz^. Dzisiejsz^. / Wcisne^ sie^ w ciebie, czcionka w papier, i b^d^ dniem kiedy poranek mnie zbudzi. 102 Bogdana Carpenter, The Poetic Avant-garde in Poland igi8-ig^g, op. cit., 101. 103 In Polish: Glod, glod blon, blon rozwartych jak usta, glod blon rozwartych jak usta kielicha, jak usta kielika z krzyku i jak nuta z ktorej serca gwiazda znikla, zdjal mnie, metalowe haslo, z halabardy, 187 But—finally!—Peiper's erotic verse defied all the previous analyses in his Na plaiy [On The Beach], one of his longest poems, a celebration of conjugal love and its physical, sexual side. In it a woman and her man are finally reconciled, their respective personal spaces transgressed only when both partners allow one another to do so:

In one another's body inserted, they will together bathe in their differences.

At first, he is a pursuer; aroused, yet playfully, he drags her, playing in the sea, off to the beach, and beyond, into the woods. But then he is followed and pur­ sued - the woman has by now become as aroused and playful as her partner:

Walking farther, every few steps they beat one another with their lips.

Joy multiplied their bodies and fed their souls in the process, so much so that her laugh, before it wounded the sky, rested on her body, and his words, like his thighs, were wider sideways than frontwise.

... she turned to him and feeling how through her body goodness and power flowed like sharp threads, drawing aside her beach coat wide, she said: it is yours.

In perfect accord of feelings and desires, they approach one another, and make

love - this time, in Peiper's poetry, joyfully, totally immersed in themselves and

their reassuringly powerful harmony of souls. Demons of the past have been

defeated, fears overcome - and true partnership reestablished, confirmed. Na

plazy is certainly Peiper's most elaborate treatise on relationships between man

zdjal z halabardy na ktorej kwitnalem upalny, glod blon jak nuta w kielichu rozwartych stracil mnie z mojego pnia na: na wlos z piany

188 and woman; most elaborate - and most satisfying, most mature.

[III.ii] Negative views on Peiper's poetic work should be put into perspective.

In simplest terms, his poetry's latent qualities may have been lost on a number of important, mainly contemporary, receivers, but this does not mean that this poetry has no discernible intrinsic worth, even appeal. On the contrary, one could compile another list of quotes, this one in turn stressing the importance of Peiper's ideas and his poetry, and the latter's virtually immediate appeal to a great number of his contemporaries—naturally often younger—poets, critics and theorists. They came to a significant (and entirely obvious) conclusion of

Peiper being the very first who freed the language from the "fetters" of the shal-

lowly understood and interpreted Symbolists' and Modernists' demagogical aesthecisim - both Symbolism and Modernism did become a part of the

Peiper's concept, yet he analysed them more thoroughly then the other writers;

of being the very first to give impetus to the real avant-garde movement in

Poland, the movement which fundamentally did away with sentimentalism

depriving Polish poetry of a broader view, stripping even the most promising

talents of their initial impetus (Kornel Ujejski being an important example);104

of being the one who should be credited with freeing the poetic diction from its

104 An extraordinarily gifted Romantic poet, in whom many saw an inheritor of Mickiewicz and Slowacki, another "Wieszcz" [Messiah], Ujejski ended up being a minor addition to the Polish romantic tradition, an 'epigone who thoughtlessly dabbled in the existing vocabulary of the Polish romantic poetry, needlessly trying to achieve pathos, and attracted to poetic effects which, in the end, sounded falsely... He was overvalued till his death (1893)..., but he deserves a place in Polish poetry for singing the hymn of the painful patriotism in the time of slavery.' Kleiner, Zarys dziejow literatury polskiej, op. cit., 345.

189 overwhelming Romantic and neo-Romantic ("Young Poland") tradition - all those who carve the monument of the present day should be indebted to him for his inspirational influence: 'his solitude is a solitude of great spirits.'105

It is clear then that Peiper's poetry has generated polemics - and its nature, its qualities have inspired an ongoing discussion as to its real importance and value - or lack thereof. Even despite Peiper's undisputed authority as a thinker, theorist and critic, his poetry—to which he attached much import­ ance, not only within his own output—still faces strong reservations if not in­ difference or even contempt.106 Nonetheless, given the subsequent develop­ ments in Polish letters, Peiper's predictions concerning the importance of his poetry as well as his philosophy did prove—at least partially—correct. Without a doubt those Polish poets who debuted in the 1960s and 1970s looked to

Peiper and the Krakow Avant-garde for sources of inspiration, both in terms of the poetic metier and ways of experiencing and interpreting reality. To them, he became a father figure of sorts, a role model for an entire generation.107 One could even talk about Peiper's ideas being reborn in the works of the younger poets.108

That he considered himself and his poetic ceuvre as being of the highest

105 Mila Elin, "Tadeusz Peiper i jego Raz" [Tadeusz Peiper and His "once"] in: Glos Poranny [The Morning Voice], No. 120 (Lodz: 1930). Glos Poranny was a social-democratic journal appearing between 1929 and 1939. Quoted in Kryszak, op. cit., 59. Janusz Slawiriski, "Tadeusz Peiper - Noga" in Janusz Maciejewski (Ed.), Czytamy wiersze, op. cit., 135. 107 Wiestaw Pawel Szymaiiski, Neosymbolizm. O awangardowej poezji polskiej w latach trzydzi- estych [Neosymbolism. On Avant-garde Polish Poetry in the 1930s] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1973) 104.

190 order cannot be argued. In the Preface to his Poematy he states without a

shade of hesitation and moderation (a very characteristic trait of his person­ ality): 'Those who carry their heart pinned to their tie, will experience difficulty

in finding such a tiepin in this book. They will say things I have heard for a

long time. Some halfwitted connoisseurs will join them and also say things I

have heard for a long time. But nobody knows poetry better than I, and from

the depths of my knowledge I assure you I am giving you poetic works which

belong to the best the present time has to offer. In the past I would not have

written all this, today I do.n°9

Peiper attempted to develop a system which would be something more than

poetry, or aesthetic programme, poesy. Rather, it would be a frame of mind, a

complex, multilayered perception of reality in which poetry is only one of many

possible strata of human self-expression. Those individuals who interpret the

reality by means of poetry explore one avenue only, but this particular avenue,

beginning in the psyche, eventually leads to attainment of superior under­

standing of one's self and one's physical and spiritual surroundings. Janusz

Kryszak stresses the metaphysical aspect of Peiper's proposition when he says

that, in Peiper's view, '[Poetry] constitutes that mode of activity which, by ac­

cumulating in the deepest layers of human mind, determines one's spiritual

109 Tadeusz Peiper, "Przedmowa" [Foreword] to Poematy, op. cit., 30. 'Ci ktorzy serce nosza^ w krawacie, b^da^ mieli klopot ze znalezieniem go w tej ksi^zce. Padna^ okreslenia od dawne przeze mnie styszane. Przylacza^ sie^ do nich oceny cwiercznawcow, od rownie dawna przeze mnie sryszane. A jednak nikt nie zna sie^ na poezji lepiej ode mnie i z gl^bi tej wiedzy o rzeczy zapewniam was ze daje^ warn utwory, ktore naleza^ do najlepszych jakie stworzyla wspokzesnosc. Kiedy indziej nie napisaibym tego, dzis pisz^.'

191 calibre and projects the most desirable relation between personality and the world. Poetry allows every one [who wants to make it] to realise the common

desire to dream because it creates a reality of fulfilled prospects, where noth-

ing is impossible.'110 This optimism, even euphoria, is demonstrated in one of

Peiper's most esteemed poems, where, according to critics, the poet achieves

very convincing balance between content and its metaphorical manifestation,111

Powojenne wezwanie [The Post-war Call]. The poem also happens to be his first

published in Zwrotnica; it marks his poetic debut:

The world washed its face with blood, Rubbed its eyes with a graveyard, locked up tanks for good. Today, the white sweeper brushes off the mud, sharpens the world's fingers and places them on bricks, lest the eyes seek the motherland on a knife or a fang; up in the skies glistening new words, fat pigeons, clang.

Let all arms, chapels in flesh, open and, in them, let the prayer of dray horses weave. The motherland once stretched from sea to sea, today it must stretch from hand to hand. The sun begs to be put to the plough; the mines are flooded with stars, where the boatless sails float; the factories dream the venom of the day in which your heat will char their loins; the Baltic yawns, and then suddenly feels shy. It is so hot that one could build a world out of a single hair let alone a hand, raised high.

The unwritten sheets of earth are awaiting new pens. We are marching on our soil,

'[Poezja jest] tym rodzajem aktywnosci, ktora, kumulujac sie^ w najglebszych warstwach psychicznych czlowieka, decyduje o jego formacie duchowym, projektuje najbardziej pozadany wymiar osobowosci i swiata. Pozwala zrealizowac wlasciw^ kazdemu potrzebe^ marzeri, stwarza bowiem rzeczywistosc spefriionej perspektywy, dla ktorej nie ma rzeczy niemozliwych.' Kryszak, op. cit., 62-63. 111 Edward Balcerzan, Poezja polska w latach igi8-ig^g [Polish Poetry in the Years 1918-1939] (Warszawa: Wydawnictwa Szkolne i Pedagogiczne, 1996) 49.

192 a wall of brows on the march. A step draws a step, a hand pushes a hand. Torn from the veins of day we are thrown into the current by a gush of oil.

We are marching to carve a new dance on every old church; enemy in front? one leap! pain? it's only pain, if that! Sooth, there are a thousand of us too few, but tomorrow we will be a fame to many; - do not complain if you're left in the lurch!

We... To pluck moss; to pluck. To be a wedge which stings and binds. To march; to sew beds into raging snow, to tear fog apart with a spark, and a rotten thread on a stone hedge, to be a song in a streetlamp, a foot in a flower tow, to make saliva another part of speech, words - entrust them to both hands to guard, into the black army of nightmares throw a fist to teach: it is all ours, won hard!112

Tadeusz Peiper, Poematy i utwory teatralne, op. cit., 33-32. In Polish: Swiat krwiq zmyl twarz. Oczy przetarl cmentarzem, czolgi zlozyl w szufladzie. Dzisiaj biary dziala brusiarz; ostrzy dlori Swiata i na ceglach J4 kladzie, aby oczy nie szukafy ojczyzny na ostrzu czy z^bie; nowe slowa lsniq na niebie, brzuchate gol^bie.

Niech sie^ ramiona, kaplice w mi^sie, otworza^ i niech tka sie^ w nich modlitwa ci^zarowych koni. Byla kiedys od morza do morza, dzis musi bye od dtoni do dtoni. Slofice blaga byscie je zaprz^gli do phiga; kopalnie sq zalane gwiazdami po ktorych prynq zagle bez todzi; fabryki snia^ jad dnia w ktorym je zar wasz zaw^gli do uda; bahyk ziewa, potem nagle si^ ploni. Jest tak goraco ze mozna by swiat zbudowac z wlosa, a coz dopiero z dloni.

Niezapisane arkusze ziemi czekajq nowych pior, Idziemy, mur czol w marszu. Krok rwie krok, dlori pcha dlori,

193 The same fervour is apparent in his short hymn to one of his favourite ob­ jects, the city, metropolis. The poem is called exactly this:, Miasto [The City]:

With fists of the fighting dream the city screwed itself into earth. Man dressed in a steamroller of heat came to live inside his own hand. Sky: The title page of a missing book."3

One may sum up his propositions thusly: Peiper's theoretical and artistic

achievements occurred during the most productive twelve to thirteen years of

his career as a theorist, poet, critic and polemist (1922 - 1935). Of special inter­

est here is his work in the areas of theory and poetic self-expression. His two

major texts, Nowe usta [The New Lips] (1925) and Tqdy [This Way] (1930) pro-

w nurt wzial nas z zyl tryskaj^cy olej.

Idziemy nowy taniec rzezbic na kazdym starym kosciele; wrog? jeden skok! bol? tylko boli! Prawda, jest nas dzisiaj o tysiac za malo, lecz jutro bedzie nas o slawe^ za wiele.

My... Mech rwac; rwac. Bye trzpieniem ktory ktuje i spina. Isc; wszyc loze w zamiecie, mgle drzec skr^, a zgnilq nic kamieniem, bye piesnia^ w latarni, noga^ na kwiecie, ze sliny uczynic dziesiat^ cz^sc mowy, Slowa - dac je dloniom pod straz, w czarna^ armie^ mar rzucic kulak nowy; nasz! 113 Ibidem, 38. In Polish: Miasto wsrubowalo sie^ w ziemie^ pi^sciami walczacego marzenia. Czlowiek odziany walcem upalu zamieszkal w swojej wlasnej dloni. Niebo: karta tytulowa zaginionej ksiazki.

194 vide fruitful material for discourse that surrounds his poetic work of the avant- garde period. What Peiper aimed at was a total re-thinking of poetry as an in­ strument for shaping reality; poetry, it must be added, that was independent from Romantic, futurist, or classicist models, or, any previous models whatso­ ever - and in that he was remarkably, if self-destructively, successful. To him, poetry results from reality that surrounds it organically. The structure of the poem is a consequence of that reality. Simultaneously, poetry will shape reality in that it will impose its values over a period of time and will work its way into people's minds. Peiper was fully aware of the elitist character of modern poetry

as he saw it. He even made a statement that his poetry may at present only

speak to the chosen "twelve" (the reference is obvious). Yet, for the moment at

least, he demonstrated an unshakeable, idealistic belief in modern, "esoteric"

poetry's ability to communicate. As he once said: 'One of the most profound

causes of the crisis in Polish poetry is... the idea of the work for all, the work

which would "speak to everybody..." In my opinion, in order for the literature

to fulfil its goal, it has to differentiate within itself. It has to differentiate

within and split itself into the following, separate directions: literature for the

farmers; literature for the intelligentsia; literature for the proletariat; literature

for the bourgeois; and the elitist one. Unfortunately, we often think that the

literary works should aim at everybody. As a result, we have literature for nei­

ther the workers nor the intellectual elite.

195 In practice, writing for everybody leads our poets to writing for an average reader, in the hope that they will appeal to the more as well as less sophisti­ cated audiences. Well, we all know this "average" reader...'114 He then indicates the necessity of following the more specialised forms of expression. Andrzej K.

Waskiewicz correctly recognises Peiper's poetic concept as a specific me­ tonymy, where poetic act, genetically resulting from reality, is subjected to that

reality only in so far as poetry reflects it, reflects its epoch, but while drawing

inspiration from it, it explores those sources of inspiration independently,

through its own methods,"5 as in the poem Z Gornego Slqska [From Upper Sile­

sia; inspired by Poland's acquisition of that rich industrial region whose land­

scape is dominated by coal mines and foundries]:

Colonnade of chimneys, iron gallery stalls, roof of clouds which steam off the sweating skin, prayer of fire, pestilence of might, muscle-made walls.

We will translate coal into fable. From the black guts of earth we shall dig out a palace of gold with pains which do not pain with a miracle of white alchemy: with will. We shall encircle the coal with faith free of biers, we shall people it with thoughts free of night. In the red crowd of lips we will rest on beds made of song. What shadow shall extinguish, laughter will set alight. We will translate coal into gold, gold into fable.116

114 Tadeusz Peiper, "O przyczynach kryzysu poezji" [About the Causes of Crisis in Poetry] An interview by Aleksander Maliszewski, Robotnik, No. 218, 1931; reprinted in Tadeusz Peiper, O wszystkim ijeszcze o czyms, op. cit., 237. 115 Andrzej K. Waskiewicz. Wkrqgu "Zwrotnicy, op. cit., 68 ff. Tadeusz Peiper, Poematy i utwory teatralne, op. cit., 35 In Polish:

196 [111.12] During the period between 1922 and 1939, Peiper wrote a great deal on a new understanding of the literary matter, mainly within the realm of poetry. It is safe to say that he primarily considered himself a poet and a thinker, and then a prose writer or a dramatist. His theory of the poetic work of art is based

on several main principles already delineated in Nowe usta (to which Ferdi­

nand Leger contributed drawings),"7 and then given the final form in Tedy, a

collection of articles published between 1922 and 1929 - his major statements

dealing with the subject of poem and its structure, poetry and its place in the

modern world.

Peiper begins with an extensive analysis of Romantic poetry to which he

also includes Impressionism and artists (such as Przybyszewski or Tetmajer),

Kolumnada kominow, galerie z zelaza, dach z chmur, ktore paruja^ ze spoconej skory, ognia kazanie, sify zaraza, z mi^sni mury.

B^dziemy w^giel tlomaczyc na bajk^. Z czarnych jelit Ziemi wydob^dziemy palac ze ztota bolami ktore nie bola^ cudem bialej alchemii: W0I3. Okolimy go wiara^ bez mar, zaludnimy go myslami bez nocy. W czerwonym thimie warg na lozach z piesni b^dziemy odpoczywali. Co dzieh zagasi, to uSmiech zapali. B^dziemy w^giel tlumaczyc na zloto, zloto na bajk^. 117 First published as Tadeusz Peiper, Nowe usta. Odczyt o poezji. Rysunkami ozdobil Fernand Leger (Lwow/Lviv: Towarzystwo Wydawnicze "Ateneum," 1925).

197 active at the turn of the century11 - here the "Romantic" is understood in broader terms, as a movement or rather general tendency, inclination to treat poetry as a subjective expression of the author's personality. He also speaks at length about the ideas of wide accessibility of art and folk influences on artistic writing as constituting intricate features of Romantic writing, at least in Po­ land.

In the course of his theoretical argument, Peiper presents four pairs of oppositions to creative approaches characteristic of Romantic writing on the one hand, and modern writing on the other. i° Romantic directness of the feeling (expression, expressiveness) vs. modern

"expressive equivalence." By "expressive equivalence" (or "equivalence of feel­ ings") Peiper meant the employment of metaphor - 'poetry creates equivalen­ cies of feelings,' he said, and must by no means name feelings directly. It is up to prose to remain directly precise: 'prose names things, poetry offers them pseudonyms.The poetic language has an intricate dimension of what the for­ malists would refer to as 'defamiliarisation'. Also, the concept of poetic "equiva­ lence" places Peiper's theory very close to the ideas of Victor Shklovsky as well as Roman Jakobson and, automatically, the Prague Linguistic Circle - a connec­ tion which has already been investigated at some length. Also, Peiper's insis­ tence on the necessity of employing "strange" metaphors, on the necessity of stripping poetry of its usual vestiges of Romanticism, on the necessity of re-

118 Tadeusz Peiper, Tqdy, Nowe usta, op. cit. 333.

198 forming the poetic language, and on the necessity on writing poetry to be

HEARD, not just READ (again: he insisted his poetry functioned best while presented in public), is similar to Boguslaw Schaeffer's musical concept of "de- naturisation." [A word of explanation on Schaeffer, virtually unknown to the

English language-based scholarship: Schaeffer coined the term in relation to the new manner of the treatment of sound models in contemporary Western music as opposed to the old, "natural," conventional methods of shaping musi­

cal phenomena (hence 'denaturisation'). Says Schaeffer: 'Using deformations the composer creates new sound qualities. In new music, however, there exist ways of deploying timbres that result from the application of special transfor­

mation procedures.. . . [W]e are able to observe a range of denaturalising tech­

niques, applied in composition not for themselves in themselves, but for a

broadening of the sound-language. As may be seen they can be perceived both

'literally' and in terms of precisely measured parameters... It is possible to dis­

cuss the term 'denaturisation' itself. In essence it is not so much a question of

describing new sound qualities as the emphasizing of a divergence from con­

ventions existing to the present time.'"9 Schaeffer also draws parallels between

contemporary composers' tendencies to 'compose,' to form (denaturise) even a

single sound, and the 'expressive' performing techniques known in jazz (slides,

shakes, rips, growls etc.); he also explains the importance of such microformal

Boguslaw Schaeffer, Introduction to Composition (Krakow: PWM, 1976) 44

199 procedures.120 Here, Schaeffer's concept is projected onto larger constitutive literary units such as verses, sentences, or syntax. This interdisciplinary con­ text establishes a fascinating field for further study. It ought to be kept in mind that Schaeffer also happens to be on of Poland's most successful and most ori­ ginal playwrights, and whose writing technique owes very much to his narra­ tive and formal designs first introduced in his music compositions.]

20 Romantic directness of spontaneous creative acts vs. necessity to "choosing,"

"composing" poems in the present day. The "unruly" Romantic expression of an author's personality must be suppressed and replaced by focusing on the ar­ tistic metier, on the poem itself by organically unifying its form and content.

This idea places Peiper very close to the New Critics, but what makes him dif­

ferent from them is his considering the poem within the broader social, percep­ tive context. Here the connections between Eliot's "objective correlative" and

Peiper's own concept of poetic objectivity also deserves to be explored in the

future.

3° Romantic idea of "art for everybody" vs. the idea of art as a "two-level" phe­

nomenon. Peiper maintains that only avant-garde art expressing the present is

capable of pushing consciousness toward its future. Experiment has to be al­

lowed and accepted. Otherwise, the development of art will be stalled and the

potential audience (no matter how small) will not reach the higher states of

social consciousness. So, the avant-garde creation is the first level at which the

120 Boguslaw Schaeffer, Muzyka XX wieku (Krakow: PWM, 1975) 314-318; see also his Maty informator muzyki XX wieku, op. cit., 102-107

200 art must function in the society. Later, the discoveries of creative, avant-garde artists are absorbed and made more accessible by artists of lesser talents who, nevertheless, contribute to the overall development of social psyche. And this is the second level at which contemporary art functions. Inevitably, such a construct puts Peiper at odds with Marxist literary critics, therefore it seems essential to reassess their arbitrary claim that he relied heavily on concepts characteristic of their approach. At the same time it is true that later on Peiper redefined his position, and cultivated style—especially in his occasional poetry of the Second World War period—akin to the ideals of socialist realism. His later development notwithstanding, the final analysis of this aspect of Peiper's theory concurs (precedes by at least two decades) Umberto Eco's model of

'open' vs. 'closed' work.

4° Romantic idea of tying the development of high art to drawing inspiration

from folklore vs. the idea of contemporaneity of art. In his famous Miasto,

masa, maszyna [The Metropolis, the Mass, the Machine], first published in

Zwrotnica, in 1922, and then reprinted in Tedy, Peiper subjects the then-present

social processes to an analysis which, in the end, offers the concept of the new

art being a reflection of new social consciousness. Therefore, contemporary lit­

erature (and especially poetry) is very well suited to establishing new models of

grammar, style, composition, rhetoric, prosody, metrics and rhythm, inspired

by the development of the modern society. In turn, literature will help to

achieve the goal of enhancing the striving toward social (cultural, economic)

201 (r)evolution. Here again comparisons might be offered between Peiper's own

'leftist' theory and the Marxist position.

In addition, Peiper developed a theory of rhyme (later elaborated by the inclusion of rhythm) which is an elegant and original - if somewhat idealistic - proposition linking the development of human thought to the development of rhyming techniques. The rhyme, according to Peiper, is becoming more and more sophisticated. From the simplest, primeval model ofaabb, it evolved into more complex models such as abab, abba and, further yet, abbaabba cdc dcd (as in the sonnet) and many others. The modern rhyme, says Peiper, has become

even more complicated through:

1) lengthening single verses so as to make even simple rhymes such as aa occur

far apart,

2) "broadening of the rhyming phrase" - lengthening distances between similar

rhymes by including other rhymes in between, i.e. abed abed etc.,

and

3) expanding the available pool of "regular rhyme" by the inclusion of rhymes

based on a variety of assonances.121

Peiper maintains that these techniques of rhyming complexity lead to

changing the meaning of the word. They also lead to inventing rhyming asso­

ciations between words whose semantic dimensions may differ radically. The

two aforementioned processes lead, in turn, to broadening human perception

The poem Powojenne wezwanie [The Post-war Call], quoted above, well illustrates these three points.

202 of the reality itself - the rhyme reflects the reality and the reality reflects chan­ ges in poetic techniques. The art 'has to help and speed up the evolution of the society towards modernity.' 122 He observed that the semantic distancing of rhymes had a profound impact on poetry and not only poetry, but on human thought in general. A huge semantic distance, which divided new rhymes, needed to be overcome. New semantic phenomena needed to be linked and unified. The movements, motions of imagination were changing, distant pieces

of reality were becoming connected. Many displacements and replacements, unknown until recently, were occurring. Poetic figures, metaphors etc. had to

adapt to their new functions.

[III.13] One of Peiper's most original ideas was that of what he referred to as

the "process of blossoming." In brief, he proposed a formal strategy based on

lengthening the syntactic units within a poem. Starting with an initial state­

ment, such as a single, compact verse, the poem would evolve by adding addi­

tional elements to that verse. In other words, he absorbed, and masterfully

combined, the musical ideas of theme, repetition and development (as known

in the so-called sonata form). In (simplified) terms of formal logic, the poem

would develop from statement Y to 'x + y' to 'x + y + z' and so on and so forth.

Peiper used this formal technique in a number of poems, starting with a single

verse and then building large formal units based on it. His poem Choral robot-

Stanislaw Jaworski, "Przedmowa" in Tadeusz Peiper, Tqdy, Nowe usta (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie 1972) 9

203 nikow [The Workers' Chorale], which initially, when published without the title, gave Adam Wazyk an impressions of being a kind of African tribal incan­ tation, yet praised for its elegance and metaphorical effectiveness, makes a

good example of the technique:

Shadow, black bird, black bird of our sighs suckles the udder of gold, suckles the sun, black bird.

Aaa! we want to have it. We very much want to have it. To have! To have! We want to have that udder of gold.

For us your song, for us your golden song, for us who are black your golden song, for us your song sculpts the world, for us the world the world.

We are looking. Looking? We steal with our eyes! We steal, we steal, we steal with our eyes. The smoke has a knife, it has the knife of our sighs, It has the knife, It slices the sun into pennies and pennies it gives away. The smoke has a knife and slices.123

Tadeusz Peiper, Poematy i utwory teatralne, op. cit., 42. In Polish: Cien, czarny ptak, czarny ptak naszych westchnieri ssie zlote wymie^ ssie slonce, czarny ptak.

Aaa, my chcemy je miec, My bardzo chcemy je miec. Miec! Miec!

204 Here, as everywhere else, mutual influences of various forms of creative ac­ tivity are obvious. Motions of the poetic imagination, connecting distant layers of reality, are supported by the gradual enlargement of the field of human ac­ tivity, the development of communication, stretching the horizons of thought.

The new poetry influenced the human thought. The intellectual effort, neces­ sary to grasp the new rhyme, made the world look differently.124

Therefore, poetry exists in a state of constant flux and develops in conjunc­ tion with other manifestations of human thought, influencing them and being influenced at the same time. As indicated earlier in passing , this diachronic

concept is clearly (and strikingly) similar to the ideas present in the mature

phase of Russian formalism Qakobson, Tynjanov), especially those introduced

in the article/manifesto "Problems in the Study of Literature and Language."125

Zlote wymie^ chemy miec.

Nam twoj spiew, nam zloty twoj spiew, nam czarnym zloty twoj spiew, twoj spiew rzezbi nam swiat, nam swiat, swiat.

Patrzymy. Patrzymy? Kradniemy oczyma! Kradniemy, kradniemy, kradniemy oczyma. Dym ma noz, ma noz naszych westchnieh, ma noz, kraje stance na grosze i grosze rozdaje. Dym ma noz i kraje. 124 Tadeusz Peiper, "Droga rymu" {The Rhyme's Way] in Tqdy, Nowe usta, op. cit., 72. 125 Jurij Tynjanov, Roman Jakobson, "Problems in the Study of Literature and Language" in

205 It is noteworthy that both Peiper and his Russian counterparts published their statements at almost the same time - Tynjanov and Jakobson in 1928, and

Peiper in 1929. But what sets Peiper apart from the formalists is, among others,

his approach to the word. In his opinion, the word does not count, it does not

exist but within the context of the sentence, phrase. Peiper rejects the concept

of the word as an autonomous phenomenon (hence his disagreement with the

futurists), capable of carrying the meaning. It is the sentence which gives the word its meaning through establishing a supporting context. Poetry, says

Peiper, is 'an art of composing beautiful sentences.'

[III.14] Julian Przybos states: 'Peiper's theoretical and critical writings glitter

with classic perfection, his poems - not all of them; only some can be placed

side by side with his flawless [critical] prose. However, who knows, perhaps

the idea of poetic diction from which image is removed might be classified as

one of those which will influence the cybernetic future...' Continues Przybos:

'Peiper's theory of poetry is likely the first since [Mikolaj] Rej which is neither

translation nor paraphrase of a foreign poetics. In Poland never had any one

proposed such an individual and complete poetic theory... When in the West

the never-ending Bacchanalia of "irrationalisms" and cult of the subconscious

was unleashed, here, in Poland, he created an original poetic doctrine, which

promulgated the ideas of order, precision, and meticulous craftsmanship in the

Ladislav Matejka and Krystyna Pomorska (Eds.), Readings in Russian Poetics. Formalist and Structuralist Views (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1971) 79-81

206 artistic work.'12

Jan Brz^kowski admits: '[At first] [m]y evaluation of Peiper's poetry was less positive. Under the influence of Rimbaud's Illuminations, in poetry I valued that, which could be captured with sight - visual elements and poetic image.

This is why the cerebral metaphor of Peiper's, its excessive conceptualism, spoke to me to a lesser extent. At that time, I was not able to appreciate fully the poetry present in many of his poems. I have to confess that today my as­ sessment of Peiper the poet is much more positive. In his poems I have discov­

ered much beauty, which I had not sensed before. After all those years,

Peiper's poems have become more precious, they have become better, which is

a rare thing, because usually the poems taken out of their temporal context age

in an ugly way.'127

Zygmunt Lesnodorski, writer and Peiper's acquaintance in Krakow before

the Second World War, concludes: 'Peiper was accused of being lazy, of writing

very little, of constantly capitalising on the same dozen or so poems. But as a

poet and critic he took responsibility for each and every word he wrote - and,

unfortunately, that was not a common attitude then. Anyway, two well written

books are better then zillions of tomes of unrestrained loquacity. Peiper's

Poematy is most definitely the most interesting phenomenon in the entire

Julian Przybos, Sens poetycki, Vol. I, op. cit., 171-172. 127 Jan Brz^kowski, "Garsc wspomnieri o Peiperze" [A Handful of Memories About Peiper] in: Poezja, March 1970, Year VI, No. 3(52), 9; see also: Marian Piechal, "Rewelator nowej poetyki" [The Lawgiver of New Poetics], ibidem, 12-19.

207 avant-garde production in Poland.'

It is only fitting to close the discussion with one of Peiper's most beautiful and naturally flowing poems, Oczy nad miastem [Eyes Over City]:

I thought a nest into the top of the highest factory chimney. My eyes and I now inhabit it.

Here I live as if in a tower of yet unbuilt cathedrals, cathedrals of coal. Under care of caressing pipes rises toward me the hot smell of man's toil and laughter. The roar and giggle I hear are a song in praise of earth's body. Smoke, which flows around me is a victory of coal's soul.

I tear out my eyes; from the glass of curiosity I cut out wings and fasten them to the eyes, which I take in my hand and throw into the air; and my eyes, flying mirrors, circle over the city.129

Zygmunt Lesnodorski, Wsrod ludzi mojego miasta. Wspomnienia i zapiski [Among the Peo­ ple Of My City. Memoirs and Notes] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1968) 319. 129 Tadeusz Peiper, Poematy i utwory teatralne, op. cit, 36. In Polish: W szczyt komina fabrycznego, najwyzszego, wmyslilem gniazdo. Zamieszkalem w nim wraz z mymi oczyma.

Zyje^ tu jak w wiezy niewzniesionych jeszcze katedr, katedr z w^gla. Pod opiekq pieszczacych rur wznosi sie^ ku mnie goraca won trudu i smiechu czlowieka. Huk i chichot, ktore slysz^, sq piesniq na czesc ciala Ziemi. Dym ktory mnie opfywa jest zwyci^stwem duszy w^gla.

208 After having read this and several other poems by Peiper, a discriminating Ca­ nadian composer, critic, traveller and noted writer, Ron Hannah, expressed his

opinion as follows: 'I see these as a wildly optimistic (even Whitmanesque, or

reminiscent of Sandberg's Chicago) paean to "progress", as it was conceived

nearly a century ago... Personally, I love the poems!"30

Nothing is to be added, for now...

Wyrywam oczy; ze szkla ciekawosci wycinam skrzydla i przypinam im do boku; biore; w dton, rzucam w powietrze; i oczy moje, latajace zwierciadla, kraza^ ponad miastem. 130 Personal electronic mail communication on 27 February 2008.

209 IV. Since He's Not Here - From Avant-garde To Realism

Did you want more darkness in order to hide the sadness of your mind? Tadeusz Peiper1

[IV.i] Peiper's avant-garde poetics manifests itself strongly in his two stage works, Szosta! Szosta! [It's Six! It's Six!], published in 1925, and Skoro go nie ma

[Since He Is Not Here], which appeared in print in 1933. Stanislaw Jaworski

points out that Szosta! Szosta!, Peiper's 'first essay in drama,' was at the begin­

ning perceived as a mere experiment, without much intrinsic value.2 Julian

Przybos writes:

But I want to talk about these two published, yet never produced, plays of the "father of the Avant-garde." When I read the first one, Szosta! Szosta!, in the year it was issued, I was disappointed by its trifling con­ tent. During that time I was working on some "gutsy" drama myself, and Peiper's play whose plot was based on an intrigue around printing of a book, which the book's author's enemy tried to prevent, seemed to me naive, devoid of drama, and uninteresting. It also seemed a bit murky. I could not understand why... the second part of the play was not a development, but only a step back to what had already been told in part one. However, to tell the truth that second part seemed to me more appealing. Thanks to the composition of actors' movements [stage actions], one could imagine it on stage as something between a ballet and a pantomime. It was not until five years afterwards, when Peiper's commentary, which he then published, shed some light on his intentions - but I was not convinced by it and regretted that Peiper the dramatist was not equal to Peiper the theoretician. What he says in his commentary is much more interesting than the work itself...'3

Tadeusz Peiper, Skoro go nie ma [Since He's Not Here] in: Poematy i utwory teatralne [Poems and Theatrical Works] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1979) 385. [All translations by P. G- M unless indicated otherwise.] 2 Stanislaw. Jaworski, U podstaw awangardy. Tadeusz Peiper pisarz i teoretyk. [At the Foundations of the Avant-garde. Tadeusz Peiper - Writer and Theoretician] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1980) 209. 3 Julian Przybos, Sens poetycki [Poetic Sense], Vols. I & II (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1967), Vol. I, 174-175. Ale mam mowic o dwoch drukowanych, a nigdzie nie granych sztukach „ojca awangardy". Gdy czytalem pierwszq z nich pt. Szosta! Szosta! w roku jej wydania drukiem, bylem rozczarowany blahosci^ jej tresci. Sam wtedy plodzilem jakies „bebechowe" dramidlo i sztuka Peipera, kt6rej intryge^ dramatyczna^ stanowilo wydrukowanie ksiazki, wbrew

210 Stanislaw Jaworski confirms: 'Szosta! Szosta! is built of two parts, first of which already contains the whole plot, whereas the second one only complements the first by returning to what had already been said earlier, but had not so far been shown on the stage... [The second part] is a retrospection...4

These rather uncomplimentary assessments may be counterbalanced by the undisputed novelty of Peiper's first stage project. Przybos noticed, but never expounded, the idea of interpretative (and creative) freedom introduced by

Peiper in his play. Szosta! Szostal's interpretative openness, where so much is

left to the potential director's discretion (not to mention the actors), was at that time a very fresh, innovative and stimulating concept of giving a work of art another ontological dimension: the work remains "unfinished" in that its

content is in part "open," to be filled with improvised actions.5

Another—and most interesting!—aspect of Peiper's first play is its autobio­

graphical context, its focus on the issue of authorship and ownership of a work

of art. It seems that in Szosta! Szosta! he dealt with the "demons" of his past,

the traumatic experiences related to losing his manuscripts, previously stolen

twice,6 and to his ongoing efforts to gain recognition as a poet, and not just as a

theoretician. Seen in this light, Szosta! Szosta! becomes one of Peiper's most

przeszkodom stawianym przez pisarza-rywala - wydala mi sie naiwna, niedramatyczna i nieinteresujaca. A takze nieco niejasna. Nie rozumialem... dlaczego ta druga cz^sd nie jest rozwini^ciem akcji, a tylko jakby cofhi^ciem sie^ wstecz ku rzeczom juz opowiedzianym w czesci pierwszej. Co prawda, to wtasnia ta druga cz^sc wydawala mi sie^ bardziej interesuj^ca. Dzi^ki ruchliwosci zarysowanych dziaiari mozna ja. bylo wyobrazic sobie na scenia jako ni to balet, ni to pantomime^ Dopiero komentarz Peipra ogloszony w pi^c lat potem wyjasnil mi zamiary autora, ale nie przekonal, a raczej wzbudzil zal, ze Peiper-dramaturg nie dorownal Peiperowi-pisarzowi. To, co pisze w komentarzu, jest bardziej interesuj^ce niz utwor.' 4 Stanislaw Jaworski, Upodstaw awangardy..., op. cit., 210. 5 Cf. Chapter IV. 6 Cf. Chapter III.

211 personal and "dramatic" statements and commentaries on his life as well as on his personality.

[IV.2] His second play, Skoro go nie ma, is considered superior to Szosta!

Szosta! Julian Przybos does not hesitate to call it 'outstanding.' He explains:

'Skoro go nie ma represents Peiper at his most mature (allow me here to use this impossible superlative). And—after having read it for the second time - and after twenty-five years!—my present impression is that it is an outstanding work. The story line is based on the workers' uprising in Krakow in 1923. But the workers only appear in it sporadically. For the most part, the main charac­

ters are intellectuals who are variously involved in the revolution - the drama

occurs between them... I am puzzled that no theatre ever staged this play in a

quarter-century from the moment it appeared in print! It does not speak well

of the literary directors of our theatres. And this is a perfect drama for the

socialist theatre, theatre that could show firmness and courage of the workers,

and fickleness of the intellectuals... [Skoro go nie ma] is positive to the quick

and is, most likely, the only pre-war work of this kind in our dramaturgy.'7

7 Julian Przybos, Sens poetycki, op. cit., 177. 'Skoro go nie ma jest wi^c dzielem najdojrzalszego (ze uzyje^ tego niemozliwego superlatywu) Peipera. I wydaje mi sie^ teraz - po powtornym - po dwudziestu pi^ciu latach! - przeczytaniu dzielem wybitnym. Akcja dramatu toczy sie^ na tie powstania robotnikow krakowskich w r. 1923. Robotnicy pojawiaja_ si$ w nim jednak tylko epizodycznie, dramat rozgrywa sie^ mi^dzy inteligentami w roznym stopniu wmiesznymi w rewolucj^... Zdumiewa mnie, ze zaden z teatrow nie wystawil tej sztuki w ci^gu cwierci wieku od jej ogloszenia drukiem! Niedobrze to swiadczy o kierownikach literackich teatrow. Przeciez to dramat wymarzony dla teatru socjalistycznego, teatru, ktory by chcial ukazac stalosc i m^stwo robotnikow, a zdemaskowac inteligenck^ chwiejnosc... [Skoro go nie ma jest wi^c dzielem

212 Skoro go nie ma shows interesting similarities with the drama Masse

Mensch by the German writer, Ernst Toller. The latter's biography sets the per­ spective for an understanding of Peiper's own personal ideology. Born in 1893,

Toller, today known mostly to scholars who specialise in German Expression­ ism, enjoyed in the 1920s and the early 1930s huge international fame as a lead­ ing8 German Expressionist poet, dramatist and radical activist associated with the political left. In 1918 and 1919 he took part in Germany's revolutionary movement in Bavaria and subsequently spent five years in prison. Subse­ quently accused of high treason, he might have been executed were it not for the testimony of Thomas Mann, Max Weber and other intellectuals on his be­ half. Once immensely popular, his main dramas - several written between 1919 and 1924 during his incarceration - include Die Wandlung (Transfiguration,

1919), Masse Mensch (Masses and Man, 1920) and Hinkemann (Hinkemann, najdojrzalszego (ze uzyje^ tego niemozliwego superlatywu) Peipera. I wydaje mi sie^ teraz - po powtornym - po dwudziestu pi^ciu latach! - przeczytaniu dzielem wybitnym. Akcja dramatu toczy sie^ na tie powstania robotnikow krakowskich w r. 1923. Robotnicy pojawiaj^ sie^ w nim jednak tylko epizodycznie, dramat rozgrywa sie^ mi^dzy inteligentami w roznym stopniu wmiesznymi w rewolucj^... Zdumiewa mnie, ze zaden z teatrow nie wystawil tej sztuki w ci^gu cwierci wieku od jej ogloszenia drukiem! Niedobrze to swiadczy o kierownikach literackich teatrow. Przeciez to dramat wymarzony dla teatru socjalistycznego, teatru, ktory by chcial ukazac stalosc i m^stwo robotnikow, a zdemaskowac inteligenckq chwiejnosc.Skoro go nie ma jest wi^c dzielem najdojrzalszego (ze uzyje^ tego niemozliwego superlatywu) Peipera. I wydaje mi sie^ teraz - po powtornym - po dwudziestu pi^ciu latach! - przeczytaniu dzielem wybitnym. Akcja dramatu toczy sie^ na tie powstania robotnikow krakowskich w r. 1923. Robotnicy pojawiaja^ sie^ w nim jednak tylko epizodycznie, dramat rozgrywa sie^ mi^dzy inteligentami w roznym stopniu wmiesznymi w rewolucj^... Zdumiewa mnie, ze zaden z teatrow nie wystawil tej sztuki w ci^gu cwierci wieku od jej ogloszenia drukiem! Niedobrze to swiadczy o kierownikach literackich teatrow. Przeciez to dramat wymarzony dla teatru socjalistycznego, teatru, ktory by chcial ukazac stalosc i m^stwo robotnikow, a zdemaskowac inteligenckq chwiejnosc. Tylko ciasnotq panujaca_ w minionym okresie tiumacze^ sobie, ze nie zwr6cono uwagi na t^ na wskros pozytywna^ i bodajze jedynq tego rodzaju pozycje; przedwojennq w naszej dramaturgii.' Q History corrected that perception in a brutal way. Today, Toller's output is largely ignored. Sadly, there is reason to believe that that harsh judgment was accurate.

213 1924). Other dramas, also staged hundreds of times in Germany, Britain and the US, are Die Maschinenstiirmer (The Machine-Wreckers, 1922, based on the

Luddite movement in England), Hoppla, wir Leben! (Hoppla, Such is Life, 1927) as well as an autobiography, Einejugend in Deutschland (I was a German, 1933).

Disillusioned by the success of Nazism as well as by the rapidly diminishing re­

sponse (if not complete indifference) to his artistic and political efforts in the

late 1930s, Toller committed suicide while in New York in 1939.9 By this act and

its context, of course, he reminds us of Stefan Zweig, another German Jew who

fell victim to the catastrophic pessimism of the times.

Despite its character, it is Toller's Masse Mensch that may be compared to

Peiper's plays. Staged in Nuremberg on November 15, 1920, Toller's drama,

built of seven tableaux stylistically informed by the Expressionist tradition and

written in response to the revolutionary events of 1918-1919, tells the story of a

bourgeois woman, named Sonja Irene L. (a character loosely based on a real

person), who, in the end, becomes a victim of the revolution - and of her own

beliefs. Initially, these beliefs consist of solidarity with the cause of the prole­

tariat combined with a rejection of violence: despite her radical attitude, Sonja

is opposed to revolutionary bloodshed, preferring strikes to military action.

Gradually, under the influence of a "nameless" demagogue, Sonja's beliefs

change, and she is able to endorse violent revolutionary force as the means to

achieve the desirable end (closing lines of the third tableau). In the process,

9 For more details concerning Toller's life and oeuvre, consult: Malcolm Pittock, Ernst Toller, Boston 1979.

214 she willingly sacrifices her marriage (her husband is a state official) in the in­ terests of the "masses" and participates in the bloody strife during which the revolutionaries execute an opponent resembling her husband. Following the

suppression of the revolution, Sonja finds herself in prison, where she comes to the realisation that her initial convictions were correct: nothing justifies taking

someone else's life in the name of a cause. Reflecting upon what has happened,

Sonja decides to bear her part of guilt to the end - "I am guilty," she admits,

and rejects all assistance offered to her to escape. Since her escape would in­ volve killing a prison guard, she decides to stay in prison and die.

Although much more positive in its outcome, Peiper's play is related to Tol­

ler's through its emphasis on how revolutionary events affect and influence

human psyche and, eventually, behaviour. There are four main characters in

the play, a woman and three men, whose stage names are derived from the

names of their respective occupations and/or their social roles: Stena (steno-

typist; in Polish: stenotypistka), In (intruder; in Polish: intruz), Narz (Stena's

fiance; in Polish: narzeczony), and Przyw (the leader of the workers; in Polish:

przywodca). As Jaworski points out, Skoro go nie ma is not a play about revolu­

tion. The Krakow uprising is there, in the background; it is present and is pre­

sented indirectly - yet it is also impossible to escape. As remarked earlier, psy­

chological interactions between the characters constitute the main area of the

author's attention. Each character operates within a different mental space:

Stena remains undecided as to her real feelings and finally—like the main

215 character in the Toller's play—chooses Przyw over Narz, her (now former) fi­ ance; Przyw is a typical politician-demagogue who eschews deeper reflections for the sake of achieving his goals by the simplest means (Jaworski even speaks of his 'thoughtlessness');10 Narz inspires pity and anger by his wavering attitude towards the workers and their demands; whereas In arouses contempt by his opportunistic stance - he only follows the workers because they have won (at least for the moment).

Another characteristic of Skoro go nie ma is the language Peiper decided to employ: free of metaphors which made Szosta! Szosta! so esoteric from the point of view of the critics and audiences alike (the play was finally staged in the 1970s); ascetic, abbreviated by numerous ellipses; and colloquial11 - often like Toller's Expressionist stage diction. It is fascinating to see how far behind

Peiper had left his original aesthetics and how close he approached realism, also in his precise stage setting directions.12

[IV.3] Unlike his poetry (almost always inspiring controversies and, not infre­ quently, heated polemics, even journalistic ruckus) and like his stage works,

Tadeusz Peiper's first novel, Ma lat 22 [He is 22], appeared on, and then quickly disappeared from, the market almost unnoticed, and if noticed at all - it met with almost unanimous indifference. The novel was published in Krakow by

Stanistaw Jaworski, Upodstaw awangardy..., op. cit., 215. Ibidem, 219. Ibidem, 219-220.

216 Peiper's own editorial venture, Kolo Wydawnicze „Teraz" [The Publishing

Circle "Now"].13 Similarly to what happened with the Zwrotnica a decade

earlier, this time, after having published only three titles: his own Poematy of

1935 and Ma lat 22 of 1936, as well as the great Maria Pawlikowska-

Jasnorzewska's important play Zahtnicy niebiescy [The Heavenly Suitors], first

staged in 1933, issued by „Teraz" in 1936, financial restraints forced Peiper again

to abandon this editing enterprise, which promised so much yet never fulfilled

the promise.14

Stanislaw Jaworski provides an interesting detail regarding the original edi­

tion of Ma lat 22, whose first run left the printery, Drukarnia Ludowa [People's

Printery] on 29 February 1936. Apparently, some copies of that first edition

were marked as "second edition", despite the date of completion of the printing

cycle being given the same, 29 February. In all probability this was done in

order to boost weak sales of the initial run of the freshly printed novel.15 But it

might also have been an anticipatory move to generate interest in the work,

both "first" and "second' editions released simultaneously to create an impres­

sion of a "hot" literary item. Indeed, a curious gloss upon strategies of small,

"independent" publishing houses then active in Poland (and perhaps at any

given place at any given moment).

13 Tadeusz Peiper, Ma lat 22. Powiesc (Z serii: „Poprzez lata") [He is 22. A Novel (From the cycle: "Throughout the Years")] (Krakow: Kolo Wydawnicze „Teraz", 1936). 14 Stanislaw Jaworski, "Komentarz" [Commentary] in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.) Ma lat 22. Krzysztof Kolumb odkrywca [He is 22. Christopher Columbus The Discoverer] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1977) 549. 15 Ibidem.

217 [IV.4] Contemplated from the perspective of time it is still uncertain even to­ day whether what happened to Peiper's first novel resulted from cruel unres­ ponsiveness of the reading public, or was an accidental twist of fate. The work itself is curious in that it is practically devoid of any narrative experimentation.

In fact, as Stanislaw Jaworski points out,16 the critics were puzzled by its narra­ tive simplicity, its stylistic, if not formal, compliance with the well established rules of realistic writing: 'one would expect an entirely different novel from

Peiper.'17 Obviously, those who expressed such opinions upon the novel's ap­ pearance on the market had sorely missed the point - already in the late 1920s and early 1930s, in Peiper's two final volumes of poetry, Raz [Once] of 1928 and

Na przyklad. Poemat aktualny [For Example. A Topical Poem] of 1931, a change in poetics taking place is visible. When compared to Peiper's two previous po­ etic volumes, A and Zywe linie [Living Lines], both of 1924, a remarkable volte- face on narrative technique is witnessed, a rapid evolution from experimental pursuits to the more "down-to-earth" sources of inspiration, selection of lexical tools and, ultimately, resultant process of communication. These later, much more influential, closing tomes of Peiper's poetic output (the 1935 Poematy is nothing more than a summary, a collection of the previously written verse)—

Na przyktad marking most decisively the moment of creative breakthrough—

Stanislaw Jaworski, „Przedmowa" [Foreword] in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.) Ma \at22. KrzysztofKolumb odkrywca, op. cit., 6. 17 Ibidem.

218 are remarkable in their focus on the most immediate, urgent and "tactile" po­ litical and social stuff his poetry is now made to mirror and comment. In them,

Peiper becomes a reporter of the present day and it is (or should be) no sur­ prise to see his renewed interest in the proven tools of narrative trade. One ought to remember about his inclination to writing prose, at first journalistic and critical prose, in the most direct and intelligible manner. Writing about

Peiper's theoretical texts Karol Irzykowski stresses out their precision: 'An ac­ robat of metaphors and incomprehensible in his poetries, when he [Peiper] de­ cides to descend from the heights and put his feet firmly on earth, i.e. in his ar­ ticles, he is clear as a thinker, and as a stylist he at present belongs to the most sophisticated ones in Poland. What in his poetry frightens away and causes fatigue, used in moderation in his articles becomes delightful... Nowe usta [The

New Lips] is a veritable stylistic gem."8 Another aspect instrumental in Peiper's evolution from the earlier, metaphor-heavy texts to the much less complex realist narratives was recognised by Jerzy Kwiatkowski in a new, influential tendency becoming prominent as a result of general social and political situa­ tion in the early 1930s, a tendency which reflected the specific Zeitgeist: 'As was the case in poetry of that epoch,' says Kwiatkowski, 'the most significant cae­ sura in the development of prose during the twenty-year interwar period falls

Karol Irzykowski, „Burmistrz marzeri niezamieszkarych" [The Burgomaster of Vacant Dreams] in: Wybor pism krytycznoliterackich [Selected Critical Writings] (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, Gdanski: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolinskich, 1975) 503-504. „Akrobat metafor i niezrozumialec w swoich poezjach, gdy chodzi zwyczajnie poziemi, tzn. w swoich artykulach, jest jasny jako mysliciel, a jako stylista jednym z najwyrafinowariszych w Polsce. To, co w jego poezjach odstrasza i m^czy, w artykulach zastosowane z umiarkowaniem jest wdzi^kiem. [...] Nowe usta s^ prawdziwym cackiem stylistycznym."

219 in ca. 1932. This caesura is marked out by two factors: 1) the emergence of a new wave of literary debutants; 2) the impetuous turn of prose towards con­ temporary social topics, performed in the spirit of radicalism, realism and authenticity, and caused by the economic crisis, pauperisation of the society,

increasing authoritarianism of the government, and sharpening internal con­

flicts... Writers direct their attention to the urban proletariat, who are experi­

encing the calamity of unemployment... At the same time the countryside is

rediscovered, more and more often shown from the perspective of class and po­

litical struggle. The destitute unemployed and the landless become standard

heroes of many prose works of those years... The literary works which directly

reacted to the socio-political crisis in Poland—they can be described as belong­

ing to social [not socialist, P. G-M] realism—were the outermost manifestation

of the tendencies, which typified the prose of that period. On the one hand

these tendencies,' Kwiatkowski continues, 'signify the growing sense of litera­

ture's social responsibility and social duties, and on the other indicate the re­

turn to the so-called formalist realism, in other words - to "transparent" lan­

guage and intersubjectively verifiable, "imitative" [mimetic] representation of

reality.'19

Jerzy Kwiatkowski, Dwudziestolecie miqdzywojenne [The Twenty Interwar Years] (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN, 2001) 282-283. Same, Literatura Dwudziestolecia [Literature of the Twenty Interwar Years] (Warszawa: Paristwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1990) 237-239. Although appearing under different titles the two books are practically identical in their con­ tent. It is not clear why same book was published twice, each time under different title.

220 Bogdana Carpenter makes an additional resolute yet elegant comment on why Peiper reorientated his aesthetics, linking this act to psychological deter­ minants:

The narrative form and realistic style of Peiper's late poems can be ex­ plained by the internal dynamics of his poetics, but they might also have a deeper psychological cause... It is difficult to find another Polish poet so adamant in dissociating personal experience from the act of writing poetry. And yet, paradoxically, one of the most illuminating commentaries is his autobiographical novel, He Is 22 Years Old. Peiper wrote the novel after his last poem, For Example, had been published in January 1931, and it is telling that he turned to the novel when he had stopped writing poetry or, most probably, could not write poetry any longer. His novel was a thinly disguised autobiography. Why the poet whose greatest effort for many years had been to build a thick wall of obscure metaphors around his own person turned to intimate autobi­ ography is best explained by the psychological notion of self- repression.20

[IV.5] In all probability, Bogdana Carpenter's assessment and suggestion as to

the complex psychological roots of Peiper's switch to realism are correct - al­

beit in part. For it seems that in light of his later poetic work, already penetrat­

ing very deeply the meadows of non-metaphorical, realistic narratives—his ex-

emplarily "sober" and, as Jerzy Kwiatkowski would have said, "transparent"

journalistic and theoretical writing falling into the same category—the decision

to abandon experiment for the sake of the well established, more easily under­

stood and received, purportedly "reader-friendly" narrative practice may not

necessarily be 'best explained by the psychological notion of self-repression.' In

his late poetry Peiper did "v i o 1 a t e" his rigorously self-imposed, hitherto

Bogdana Carpenter, The Poetic Avant-garde in Poland igi8-ig^g (Seattle and London: Univer­ sity of Washington Press, 1983) 109-110.

221 sacrosanct integrity by deliberately manifesting his social stance, now trans­ muted into lexical constructs betraying a high degree of presumed accessibility.

He did it in such an ostentatious and "impulsive" manner and, moreover, over­

stepped the previously unbreakable barriers of his poetics to such an extent that Na przykiad was immediately censored and ordered withdrawn from the

market, then became a subject of a court case, and was finally confiscated. To

put it briefly, Peiper's new communicative act, whose realist pedigree was in­

itially visible in his journalistic and theoretical texts, later in his poetry, and in

the end in his artistic prose, found its ultimate aspirations in topicality and ac­

tuality. Perhaps some other psychological forces were at play there, turning

self-repression into self-acceptance. Or perhaps it was just a calculated com­

promise, so often intrinsic to the elusive literary and material success. None­

theless, psychological aspects aside, the fact remains that by the mid-i93os,

when his first novel appeared, Peiper had been a realist for at least half a de­

cade.

[IV.6] From the point of view of narration, the novel offers interesting possi­

bilities for analysis of its structure and that of the participants in its narrative

communication. First of all, despite Jaworski's cautious claims to the contrary,21

the novel's real and implied authors could not differ much less. If the story's

real author is, as it is fairly well known, a Polish-Jewish intellectual, a man of

Ibidem.

222 (many) letters and, to a certain extent, an activist and sympathiser of the Left, who started writing in order to satisfy his progressive philosophy of social change, then the implied author is, supposedly, someone imagined as repre­ senting quite a similar tradition, for the narrative focuses on a relationship be­ tween a youth born into a well-to-do family—a son of a local politician (mayor of the city of Rzeszow instead of Podgorze where the real Peiper was born and lived in his youth, but this is, as Jaworski asserts, but a cosmetic change)22 and a successful business woman dealing in real estate, a youth who, for one, very early on becomes attracted to socialism—and several characters interacting with whom delineates his intellectual (mental) and physical progress into adulthood. Shlomith Rimmon-Kenan suggests that in such cases of narra­ tive interaction between the participants, most readers will instantly and 'intui­ tively feel' that the implied author is, indeed, 'a construct inferred and assem­ bled by the reader from all the components of the text.'23 As well, given the context in which this particular narrative appears—the context and details of

Peiper's life, his personal "story"—the similarities between the two authors be­ come rather striking. In point of fact, Ma lat 22, the very first novel Peiper wrote,24 is in spite of the realistic bloodline of his late verse so different in its

Ibidem. 23 Shlomith Rimmon-Kenan, Narrative Fiction: Contemporary Poetics (London and New York: Rutledge, 1992), 87. 24 And still controversial. Andrzej Chruszczyriski calls it "immensely boring... As prose writer Peiper is quite helpless" whereas the distinguished critic, Kazimierz Czachowski (1890 - 1948), praised it for the "courage of its sincerity." See: Andrzej Chruszczynski, U schylku miedzywojnia. Autentyzm literatury polskiej lat 1933 - 1939. (Warszawa: Panstwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1987) 206-208; cf. Stanislaw Jaworski, "Przedmowa" in:Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw

223 scope from his earliest versified work, that it would be hardly justifiable to say that here, the implied author is 'far superior in intelligence and [at least] moral standards' to the actual real author named Tadeusz Peiper.25 Another interest­ ing question arises from the fact that the main part of the story is told through the narrator's third person singular specific internal monologue, and thus sev­

eral intriguing options are available for analysis in terms of the story's narrative voice(s). These and other relationships between the participants of Peiper's

communicative act are indeed of much interest.

Worthy of note is the concept of time in this particular narrative. The

novel's initial timeline offers an attractive combination of analepsis and prolep-

sis as the hero habitually looks back, reflects on his life through a series of

events, which occurred in the past yet project into the future, i.e. his present.

Although this (self-)analytical process refers to certain past events, it is clear,

however, that the at some points the narrative's time will cross repeatedly with

the hero's present. The hero, in turn, reaches back in time and muses (and this

is the most correct word to describe the action) upon what he is experiencing.

It does not become obvious until the very last chapters of the narrative that it

was intended to explain his escape, and that everything had led to the conclud­

ing drama. Again, the analysis of this narrative's time proves useful to demon­

strate certain theoretical concepts of Barthes, Chatman, Genette and others.

Jaworski, Ed.), Ma lat 22. Krzysztof Kolumb odkrywca (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1977) 11. 25 Ibidem.

224 As pointed out earlier, Ma lat 22 is concerned with relationship between two seemingly incompatible ideological and emotional paradigms. These two paradigms can be referred to as:

1) social radicalisation as manifested by the main character, Ewski's, early in­ volvement in illegal and semi-legal socialist and irredentist activities; ideas of independence, women's emancipation - early feminism propagated by... men,

class equality), and

2) Ewski's resistance to the notion of accepting comfortably the more prosaic

sides of reality, and necessity for change in individual, personal, "private" atti­

tudes (as personified by his inflexibility towards women as well as his attitude

towards "lower classes"). Bogdana Carpenter makes a revealing remark, perti­

nent both to the author and his porte parole: 'The young protagonist of Peiper's

novel, Ewski, is tortured by the constant suppression of his own feelings and

his inability to manifest them. The personality trait leads him to adopt secre-

tiveness as a conscious, wilful manner of behavior and an attitude toward life:

"One has to bury what is dear in life deeply inside oneself. Not to show it, not

to speak of it... You will be quiet, you will be silent. You will hardly be..."

Peiper the theoretician wrote of "pudor poetae," of the "shyness of feelings" and

the need to disguise them behind pseudonyms. Self-repression on the psy­

chological plane was wilfully translated into an aesthetic theory of self-

repression. However, the need for self expression that was so severely re­

pressed in his poetry reasserted itself and returned with all its force in the

225 novel. The same kind of self-revelation in his poetry was impossible for Peiper, since this would mean disloyalty to his own ideal of poetry. To avoid violating his integrity and to remain faithful to his principles the poet needed another form of expression, and the novel best suited these needs. In his poetry there were already indications of this future evolution.'26

[IV.7] But, as usual, there is "more to the story" than that. Ma lat 22 offers a

good example of embedded narrative, in which several levels of narration co­

exist and complement each other. In the initial analysis of Peiper's narrative

two related theories are useful to illustrate the argument. Boris Tomashevsky's

formalist theory of fabula and syuzhet can easily be harmonised with Gerard

Genette's structuralist theory of histoire and discours. As Martin points out, the fabula can be summarised as 'the raw materials of the story' whereas syuzhet

can, in turn, be summarised as 'procedures used to convey [the fabula].' And

he continues: '[t]he materials are an abstract "constant" in fiction making; the

words and techniques used can vary. There are obvious reasons for this distinc­

tion. We can't discuss the "how" of storytelling without assuming a stable

"what" that can be presented in various ways.'27

Correspondingly, structuralists such as Genette (and also Seymour Chat-

man) have employed two terms similar to the ones used by formalists: story

Bogdana Carpenter, The Poetic Avant-garde..., op. cit., 109-110. 27 Martin, Wallace. Recent Theories of Narrative (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1991) 107-108.

226 (histoire) and discourse. 'For Genette,' as Martin indicates, '"story" is made up of the pre-verbal materials in their chronological order and thus corresponds to one formalist definition of "fabula." Genette's "discourse" contains all the fea­ tures that the writer adds to the story, especially changes of time sequence, the presentation of consciousness of the character, and the narrator's relation to the story and the audience.'28

Martin is cautious in dealing with the above theories: he justly subjects them to scrutiny and questions their "reconstructive" chronological dimension:

'[T]he conceptual clarity gained by distinguishing fabula from syuzhet, and

story from discourse, is achieved at a certain price: it implies that what the nar­

rative is really telling is a chronological story—one that the reader tries to re­

construct in the right temporal order—and that the elements of narration are

deviations from a simple tale that existed beforehand. The result is a powerful

method of dissecting narrative, but it pays scant heed to the narrator's struc­

tural reintegration of the materials in larger units of action and scheme.'29

However, despite the novel's concealed temporal linearity, in the case of Ma lat

22 such objections do not seem necessary. The narrative is—almost—a tradi­

tional one, with all the formal strategies clearly delineated and easily recognis­

able. Even the numerous flashbacks with all their reversed chronologies are

arranged in a fashion which makes it possible to reconstruct the implied time

sequence.

Ibidem. 29 Ibidem, 109.

227 In Ma lat 22 we can respectively recognise two elementary fabu- lae/histoires as well as two elementary syuzhety/discourses. On the first level, we recognise a fabula/histoire of Ewski's memories. The syuzhet/discourse cor­ responding to this fabula/histoire is the story about the relationship between

Ewski and his environment (family, friends) in the past. On the second level, another, embedded fabula/histoire is present: that of young man's psychologi­ cal development, overcoming all "temptations" and then... escaping to Paris just before making any serious commitment to either the cause of independ­

ence or a woman. The second level embedded syuzhet/discourse is the story about love unfulfilled (or, rather, suppressed): Ma lat 22 may be seen as 'a sim­

ple tale that existed beforehand,'30 a typical Bildungsroman.

However, this simplicity does not mean that Ma lat 22 is a simplistic

story (no matter how "unoriginal" its subject is). On the contrary, Peiper's

skillful use of narrative strategies led to creating a story whose innermost struc­

ture still offers possibilities for analysis of its narrative levels, functional and

thematic synthesis, and temporal relations.

All in all, as indicated before, Ma lat 22 is Peiper's ultimate farewell to his

earlier aesthetics. It took him fifteen years to abandon the avant-garde

idealism.

[IV.8] Tadeusz Peiper belonged to that generation of post-First World War

30 Ibidem.

228 Polish artists who, already at the outset of their activities, were geared up to do away with what they perceived as a compromised, tired aesthetic; who were eager to deal with the 'ready-made' modus operandi of the avant-garde (Expres­ sionism, Futurism, Dada) and at the time the much lesser known literary ex­ perimental tradition - Joyce, Kafka, early Beckett et aliis); who were keen on absorbing it instantly; and who were subsequently able to re-evaluate it and

develop it further still—all this and "more"—without too much internal tor­

ment. High-spirited, youthfully optimistic curiosity, combined with post-war

mental relief, institutional support, and benevolent tolerance of and encour­

agement from at least some of the older members of the community, namely

the modernists who flourished in Poland roughly between 1890 and 1914

(Stanislaw Przybyszewski, Leopold Staff, Stefan Zeromski!), prepared ground,

as Boguslaw Schaeffer puts it, for exploration of the 'potentialities of the ma­

terial.' This is how it may have looked from the very limited (French, Italian,

German) European perspective, at least. Pierre Boulez, the famous enfant

terrible of the musical avant-garde of the post-Second World War era, speaking

within a slightly different context, yet in universal terms, and exaggerating a

little on the point of the supposed aesthetic vacuum which each avant-garde

movement has tried to fill, summed it up best: 'Immediately after the war there

were great hopes for a generation (and especially for the generation that had

realized failings and weaknesses of its predecessors and immediately marched

ahead, full of enthusiasm), to make its own discoveries on what amounted to a

229 tabula rasa... [N]othing was ready and everything remained to be done: it was our privilege to make the discoveries and also to find ourselves faced with nothing - which may have its difficulties but also has many advantages. As a teacher (I am not a very good one, but I have had two or three years' experi­ ence), I have seen the great difference between the problems facing the next generation and those that we had to face. Our first thought was unity of ac­ tion. The discoveries we made... were comparatively easy: it was simply the primary effort needed to lay the foundations of the new language, starting from the existing sources, which we had chosen afresh for ourselves. This language

developed in a way that might have resulted in a new academicism. It was to

avoid this that every composer began to explore his own world, which is the

normal and desirable way for things to happen, the most serious fault that

could be found with composers of the same generation in different countries

being too great a mutual resemblance, a following too closely of the same path.

There were cases in which this accusation was justified, though not for long,

individual personalities developing and becoming more marked with age, and

divergencies with them. There finally appeared temperaments able to express

themselves with the freedom that all of us had striven so hard to achieve.'31

Also speaking from the later perspective, albeit referring to another period,

Cornelius Cardew was nonetheless critical, his main concern being that 'aca-

demicisation' of the movement, which Boulez said had been feared already at

Pierre Boulez (Jean-Jacques Nattiez , Ed.) Orientations - Collected Writings by Pierre Boulez (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986) 445-446.

230 an early stage.32

The US composer and literary scholar, Christian Wolff, too, gives his side of the story in a different way from Boulez, and from a different angle. But what he says can easily be applied to the "official" situation in Polish letters right af­ ter the First World War. In the US, for instance, there seemed to be nothing heroic about that period immediately following the war. Asked to describe the artistic scene in New York, he answered: 'There was a lot of reaction going on...

It was a very bleak picture...'33 It is a rare occurrence to see such a frank as­

sessment in regards to the general situation of the American avant-garde, or

any 20th Century avant-garde at that, usually depicted in a nimbus of heroism,

this assessment being offered by one of the key figures of the movement. What

Wolff did was this: in just a few terse sentences he matter-of-factly decon­

structed the legend.

[IV.9] To give a synthetic overview of the (obvious) socio-political environment

immediately after the Great War:

i° In the Soviet Union progressive tendencies were being gradually quashed as a

matter of course; their representatives—whose experimenting was more often

than not quite modest—accused of 'formalism' and either silenced almost

completely (like so many former Avant-gardists), or, if luckier, forced to accept

32 Cornelius Cardew, "Modern Music Has Found Its Feet But on What Low Ground" in: The Musical Times, Vol. 105, No. 1459 (Sept.1964), 674. 33 David Patterson, "Cage and Beyond: An Annotated Interview with Christian Wolff in: Per­ spectives of New Music, Vol. 32, No. 2 (Summer, 1994) 54-55.

231 and cultivate the permitted style(s) and genres, rooted in the Russian realist tradition.

2° In Scandinavia, Great Britain and its dominions the new tendencies had been looked upon with typically Protestant, traditionally conservative suspi­

cion and it took time before that changed (countries such as Australia, Canada,

New Zealand and South Africa were for the most part steeped in British con­

servatism, often perpetuated—as in Canada—by the hopelessly conformist,

second-rate artists, often imported from the Isles; and many of their most tal­

ented home-grown artists elected to leave their native countries - an unfair ex­

change whose impact continued to be long felt).

3° Japan, and the rest of Asia, had its own traditions and—fundamentally colo­

nial—problems; it was not until much later that institutional foundations for

the dissemination of modern music—still largely inadequate—were laid.

4° Given the number of talented artists in the region, in Latin America—

especially in Mexico—the situation was a bit different; yet fragile economies, a

weak middle class, and poor infrastructure generally influenced the artistic

communities there in negative ways.

Generally speaking—and without referring to any particular period for

now—unlike the visual and like the musical, the literary avant-garde has never

been as robust and influential as its apologists would have loved it to be. It is

an illusion to attribute any widespread causal force to it. At the outset, before,

during and following the Great War, it enjoyed limited institutional and private

232 support in several (only several) European countries - yet probably to a much larger extent than it did elsewhere. But, to repeat what has just been said: with a few exceptions to the rule (Pablo Picasso, Igor Stravinsky, James Joyce, Wil­

liam Faulkner, surrealism and Salvador Dali, later Le Corbusier, Federico

Fellini, Pierre Boulez), even if the socio-economic and political circumstances were propitious, never has the avant-garde been able entirely to take over—or

even just be present within—the sanctioned channels of propagation and ex­

perience (that is not its goal anyway - or is it?). If it ever has been able to

achieve so massive and unattainable a task, it has done so fragmentarily and to

a very narrow degree (as—to give a few examples—in a number of housing

schemes by Pieter Oud, including the well-known Kiefhook housing estate in

Rotterdam; in a couple of similar Bauhaus projects such as the Dessau Lauben-

ganghauser; and in early Soviet Constructivist propaganda art as well as revolu­

tionary literature—Mayakovski—and in the cinema of Pudovkin and Eisen-

stein).

[IV.io] Symptomatically, Peiper's much discussed "switch" from the avant-

garde aesthetics to the more common narrative techniques, was as much the

result of a reevaluation and redefinition of his avant-garde project—or, to use

ironically the traditional "charged" concept, of his creative curiosity and unrest

(which in some cases appears highly doubtful; perhaps the noun "impatience"

is more apt here)—as of his psychologically, commercially, ideologically and

233 aesthetically driven desires to enter the mainstream market. This went far be­ yond aspiring to an occasional benefit such as an occasional publication in and important "official" literary magazine somewhere, or an occasional commission from an established publisher. In this sense, to paraphrase the famous Cardew statement about Karlheinz Stockhausen, many avant-garde artists had begun

'serving capitalism.' (Wild declarations about 'restoring the trust of allegedly alienated audiences' are nothing more than admissions of defeat and amount to masochistic sexual submission to the system - an attitude deeply embedded in the postmodern experience.) But the avant-garde did 'serve capitalism' in any case, or, rather, was dependent on it all the way (or dependent on any other socio-economic system within whose structure it may have made its ap­ pearance). Regardless of its transcendental (as proposed by Renato Poggioli),34 critical (as proposed by Theodor Adorno), destructive and decadent (as pro-

3 'Perhaps the most original interpretation of avant-garde was presented in the 1940's by an Italian art theoretician, Renato Poggioli. Poggioli's theory of avant-garde... can be characterized as socio-psychological. It strives to offer a sociological and psychological explanation for the emergence of avant-gardist phenomena. Poggioli's aim was not to study avant-garde art in it­ self, but rather what "avant-garde art reveals from the cultural situation as such." His focus was not in the aesthetics or poetics of avant-garde, but in its ethics and politics, as one could nowa­ days put it. Poggioli took also in consideration the impact of mass culture on avant-garde, for in the United States, where he lived and taught, the dichotomy between mass culture and high culture opened up much earlier than in Europe. Poggioli's theory is interesting not only in the sense of the history of ideas, since it links avant-garde to early German romanticism and surre­ alism, it is also rich in historical details. It can be regarded as an important milestone against which it is possible to compare other interpretations of avant-garde. This does not mean, how­ ever, that this theory remains without objections.' Irmeli Hautamaki, "Introduction" in: The Origin of Avant-garde, available in electronic version at: http://mustekala.kaapeli.fi/artikkelit/1070380027/index_html. Renato Poggioli, The Theory of the Avant-garde. Translated from the Italian by Gerald Fitzgerald (Cambridge, Mass.: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1968).

234 posed by Gyorgy Lukacs), or re-integrative (as proposed by Peter Burger)35 modes of thought and operation in relation to cultural politics; no matter what its—affirmative or negative—approach to artistic praxis; despite its metaphysi­ cal/speculative or rationalistic philosophical and/or ideological closures: being a product of liberal high capitalism early in the 20th Century—being also tech­ nology-hungry and with technology obsessed—the avant-garde finally gave in to the pressure exercised by that industrial bourgeois system's instruments of mercantile persuasion (indoctrination), these obviously not aiming at the avant-garde itself, but rather at its potential clientele, the receiver/consumer.

This reliance on technology (sphere of production) explains, partially at least, why the avant-garde turned out to be so fragile when confronted by hostile authoritarian regimes - and later on by consumerism of the late capitalist for­ mation. [Partially only, because as Stefan Jaworski points out with good rea­ son, a synthetic overview of the avant-garde and its social, economic and philo­ sophical tenets will always be incomplete—especially from the point of view of

Marxist critique—without taking into consideration dissimilarities between

Western avant-garde movements which developed in highly industrialised countries, and their East/Central European counterparts which arose and func-

35 Peter Burger, Theory of the Avant-Garde. Translated from the German by Michael Shaw, (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1984). Burger's elegant and influential discussion is confined, and this is perhaps its main point of contention, to pre-selected avant-garde movements such as the post-revolutionary Russian avant-garde, Dadaism and early Surrealism. See also: Dietrich Scheunemann (Ed.), European Avant-Garde: New Perspectives, (Amsterdam - Atlanta, GA: Rodopi, 2000) 8-11.

235 tioned for a long time within the predominantly agrarian formation.3' It is a matter of different levels of experience, argues Jaworski: watchwords such as urbanisation, industrialisation, worship of technology and modern civilisation meant one thing in the highly developed western lands, and another in agrar­ ian areas such as Bulgaria, Hungary, Poland, or Ukraine.]37

Boguslaw Schaeffer, in some way echoing Adorno and Horkheimer (cf. The

Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception) and, to some extent, Ben­ jamin (cf. The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction) stresses the dilemma of the avant-garde thusly: 'Someone said that the present-day avant- garde is tired. It is not true. What is true is that the term refers to very many individuals who only in appearance express themselves in avant-garde vocabu­ lary, but in reality they are stuck in contemporary conventionalism, which is possible today because the interpersonal communication process has been so exceptionally and universally perfected. NB, the avant-garde' [he continues]

'First of all, one should remember that Russian futurism is intrinsically heterogenous to the extent one can speak of two futurisms: pre- and post-revolutionary. In the early declarations and manifestoes of Russian futurists, one can hardly find any trace of overt and direct interest in technology and science. Unlike their Italian counterparts, they almost ignored the issue.' Edward Mozejko, 'The Twisted Bond: Technological Progress and the Evolution of Russian Lit­ erary Avant-Garde' in: Acta Slavica Iaponica, Tomus XI, 1993, 90. See also: Zbigniew Folejew- ski, Futurism and its Place in the Development of Modern Poetry (Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 1980). Says Folejewski: 'Italian artists went as far as announcing that the machine should be adored as superior to man. But for the majority of the Russians these things remained ra­ ther alien.... In this respect the attitude of many 20th century Russian artists was no different that that of Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky and other 19th century men. The country poet Esenin la­ mented the horse chased by the railway engine; the futurist Klebnikov presented an apocalyp­ tic vision of a monstrous mechanical bird.... Mayakovsky was one of the very few Russian poets for whom not only was the city street more familiar ground than a meadow, but also - in his own words - he 'saw electricity in an electric iron' while Pasternak saw it 'in the lightning in the sky.' (p. 8). 37 Stanistaw Jaworski, Awangarda (Warszawa: Wydawnictwa Szkolne i Pedagogiczne 1992) 9-10.

236 'cannot be numerous, as its principal attribute is going against the main, 'man­ datory' current. Besides, avant-garde music which evokes new technologies

does not have a chance—does not have time as it were—to take part in dis­

course, for even before it can posit itself within artistic reality its propositions

are intercepted, taken over, made shallow by others - and this is why the bona fide, unyielding creativity is never appreciated. This is important [to under­

stand] especially in our times when art is not experienced but consumed,

thereby destroying the distinct character of each and every, even the most un­

conventional, piece of artistic creation. And it so happens that—in spite of

avant-garde music and the official music milieu remaining apart—the most

outward elements of avant-garde discoveries are imported and transferred onto

other phenomena, onto intermediary products. This is why that great creative

passion the artist expressed in new form and new technology is now publicly

falsified; and stripped of its most substantial characteristics such as innovation,

uniqueness, originality, spontaneity - it now becomes exposed to rejection, to

misunderstanding.'38

Viewed from such a perspective, Tadeusz Peiper's calmly obstinate, uncom­

promising stance deserves attention - and respect. At this point it seems useful

to try to place his oeuvre within the general avant-garde narrative. What orien-

3 Bogusiaw Schaeffer, Muzyka XX wieku. Tworcy i problemy [20* Century Music. Its Creators and Issues] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie 1975) 309-310. Cf. Max Horkheimer, Max and Theodor Adorno (Gunzelin Schmid, Ed.), Dialectic of Enlightenment: Philosophical Fragments (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2002); Walter Benjamin, "The work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction" in: Illuminations: Essays and reflections. Translated from the Ger­ man by H. Zohn (New York: Schocken, 1968).

237 tation did he represent, and to what extent can his output be identified with the avant-garde project?

[IV.n] According to Jean Weisgerber—if we are to accept his generalisations— the avant-garde may be defined as 'a series of movements, i.e. actions, often

collective (and sometimes individual), represented by a certain number of writ­

ers and artists expressing themselves by means of manifestoes, programmes

and periodicals, and distinguished by their radical opposition to the [currently

dominant] order existing in literature (forms, subjects etc.) as well as—broadly

speaking—in the political and social spheres. In most cases' Weisgerber con­

tinues, '[the avant-garde] is about double resistance (often even total resist­

ance, also towards customs, behaviours and morality), it is about separation—

connected with the will to outmarch the epoch—separation limited to either

pure destruction (nihilism) or aiming at reaching a certain ideal of reconstruc­

tion (formal experiments, political activities, utopianism etc.).'39 In other

words, Weisgerber postulates two synchronous currents within the avant-

garde: a destructive, negative, nihilist and resistant one (for instance: Futurism,

Dada); and the other (re) constructive, affirmative, largely proactive (for in­

stance: De Stijl, Soviet avant-garde Left after the October Revolution; today:

"ecological" avant-garde as represented by the Canadian composer, writer and

philosopher R. Murray Schafer and his disciples). For simplicity's sake we will

39 Jean Weisgerber, 'Les avant-gardes litteraires' in: Neohelicon 1974, 414.

238 refer to the former as the Epimethean avant-garde, and to the latter as the Pro­ methean avant-garde.

It is reasonably safe to say that Peiper's ceuvre belongs to the Promethean avant-garde. It belongs there due to its intrinsic, 'non-combative' properties which on the fundamental, substructural level consist in:

1. a humanistic belief in the necessity of art in general and literature (poetry)

in particular as a means of enlightened communication (hence absolute ab­

sence of any indication of commercial opportunism detectable in Peiper's

mature poetry and critical prose) and of shaping reality;

2. a constructive approach to creative process(es) in general (metadiscipli-

nary mind-set, writing techniques involving an array of possibilities ranging

from mathematical principles to intuitive decision-making on the reader's

part—these preceding it seems, among others, the ideas of Conceptual Art);

3. an unrestricted attitude concerning the communication process, receivers

being entrusted with considerable interpretative freedoms;

4. a logical manner of dialoguing with his "clients" i.e. other writers, critics,

scholars, readers, listeners (cf. his simple and sometimes humorous, yet al­

ways thorough and precise theoretical texts and interpretative suggestions

as well as his attention to typography (always intended to help the process

of absorbing the ideas, habitually reduced to the simplest, clearest, most

evocative signs);

and on the superstructural level are exemplified by:

239 i. avoidance of formal chaos, i.e. preference for elegant and clear articula­

tion of narrative time (the poet makes sure that differences between lexi­

cal—"textural" and "timbral"—blocks are easily discernible; in a sense

Peiper's lexical models may have been informed by the Russian Constructiv-

ists' techniques in which—in order to prevent textual monotony and ano­

nymity of the almost totally chaotic material, like in Dada texts—certain

parameters are made to dominate the overall visual and aural result of the

given section of a text);

2. avoidance of narrative anger, i.e. preference for expressive, 'Baroque' lyri­

cism on the one hand and monumentalism on the other (prevalent in some

of his sizeable works employing the "process of blossoming" and ad­

vanced, sophisticated metaphors); one may say that even pure violence is

elegant in Peiper's works;

3. avoidance of communicative aggression, i.e. preference for rich yet

subtle and almost conventionally soft, warm and crystalline lexical figures,

usually selected for their expressive—and not just technical—qualities;40

4. avoidance of morphological unintelligibility, i.e. preference for formal

clarity (potential harshness of complex metaphors often softened by dis­

creet verbal "instrumentation" and preference for sustained narrative time -

as in his justly celebrated erotic poems Na plazy [On The Beach] and Naga

40 This assertion, however, has to be taken carefully, as some of Peiper's poems and prose writ­ ings (be it critical or artistic) do contain rather explicit statements, usually related to relation­ ships between the two sexes.

240 [Naked]).

[IV.12] Moreover, it appears that, despite his "conversion" to realism, Peiper had till the end remained "unabashedly" positive and optimistic in his creative work. Even his extreme poems such as Noga [Leg] and Pod dachem ze smutku

[Under the Roof of Sadness] were the logical outcome of his interest in affirma­ tive metadisciplinary research and experiments with metaphor, rhythm and

rhyme, rather than in frenzied and obsessive attempts at creating something

shockingly new at any cost ("novelty for novelty's sake"). Peiper's judgments

invariably impress by their objective nature and restraint, as when he alluded

to the situation in Polish letters upon his arrival in 1921. One of the things that

happened around the time that he encountered was the collision between

classicist ideas of the Skamander group and pure Futurist thinking, which

Peiper considered somewhat chaotic. These two competitive aesthetics were

really the polarities, and it was really when they significantly conflicted,

"bumped" into each other. And as he said in a series of articles, they were such

conflicting extremes. Skamandrite subjection to tradition is such an extreme of

restraint; and Futuristic poetry at its worst, or at its most extreme, was almost

unrestrained anarchy. And those two things—total restraint and total anar­

chy—were polarities which, according to Peiper, had to come back together as

far as modern literature is concerned. Within a very short period of time, some

of Peiper's contemporaries in fact went to the extremes of what he considered

241 unnecessary limitation on one end of the spectrum and lexical mayhem on the other end. What had happened, and perhaps it was inevitable and necessary, is that thanks to the Peiper theoretical contribution, Polish poetry had come into a balance between these two approaches.

The exigencies of Peiper's own metadisciplinary inspirations and principles led him very early on to making a number of substantial propositions whose

impact on general avant-garde aesthetics in Poland has been felt ever since. It

is valid to say that in the "practical" areas of theoretical formulations (essays, articles, notes, commentaries, interviews), lexical assertions and—which is of­

ten overlooked—forma/ considerations, Peiper had made contributions compa­

rable to those Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz and Leon Chwisted had made in the

philosophy of art and creative process (including formal strategies). Further­

more, by introducing two "practical" concepts of refined metaphor and formal

order, Peiper fundamentally transformed literary ontology.

[IV.13] In comparison with the perspectives of the European Avant-garde be­

fore 1939, Peiper's achievement may only be considered as highly individual

and highly original, and as a consequence, relating it to other aesthetic proposi­

tions is exceptionally difficult. Aware of what was happening around him,

Peiper routinely distanced himself from those aesthetics which, popular though

they were, could not stir his imagination enough, or were in what he perceived

as opposition to his own system. He knew personally some of the leaders of

242 the European Avant-garde: he was on good footing with Kasimir Malevich (a

photograph of the two in Berlin is extant) and even tried to facilitate Malevich's

immigration to Poland, an attempt which was not successful; in 1927, he and

Malevich visited Germany and went, among other locales, to Berlin and Des­

sau, where at Bauhaus they met with Walter Gropius, Wassily Kandinsky, Han-

nes Mayer, Laszlo Moholy-Nagy and Mies van der Rohe. This visit resulted in

two articles, W Bauhausie [At the Bauhaus]41 and Malewicz w Polsce [Malevich

in Poland].42 During his years in Spain, Peiper met Robert Delaunay and the

composer Manuel de Falla, not to mention his becoming thoroughly ac­

quainted with the progressive Spanish-language poetry of the period, to which

his article Nowa poezja hiszpariska [On New Spanish Poetry] attests, as do

translations of several poems.43 If W Bauhausie and Malewicz w Polsce are but

occasional texts, of which the former has the character of a typical journalistic

report, while also including sections in which Peiper speaks at length of his

positive aesthetic impressions during the visit, then the article on Spanish-

language poetry offers a deeper reflection on the nature of new poetic tenden­

cies displayed therein. Peiper finds this modern Spanish poetry to be a specific

offshoot of the European Avant-garde and praises it for its focus on the renewal

Zwrotnica, June 1927, No. 12, 255-256. The same, final issue of Zwrotnica (page 254) features Malevich's article, "Deformacja w kubizmie" [Deformation in Cubism]. 42 Zwrotnica, March 1927, No. 11, front cover. 43 Tadeusz Peiper, "Nowa poezja hiszpariska" [On New Spanish Poetry] in: Nowa Sztuka [The New Art], February 1922, No. 2. The same issue of Nowa Sztuka features Peiper's translations of poetry by Jorge Luis Borges, Vicente Huidobro, Ernesto Lopez Parra, Jose Rivas Panedas, Gui- llermo de Torre, and Rafael Lasso de la Vega.

243 of the poetic metier, which, according to Peiper, makes it similar to French po­ etry. He also commends it for its supposed cult of the poetic sentence and un­ orthodox metaphors, which together create 'a reality unto itself;' he recognises the importance of juxtaposition: 'Sentences lay next to each other. Without links, without transitions. There exists between them only a web-like bridge of a most general idea. Images and thoughts move before us as if on the screen of a magic lantern: image, pause, image, pause. The [conventional] stream of con­ tinuity is gone. Almost total absence of conjunction...' Then Peiper proceeds to discuss the place of rhyme and rhythm among Spanish poets: 'This charac­ teristic desarticulation [Peiper's term; probably best translated as "disjointed-

ness"] of poems, this division into blocks, is mirrored by a special treatment of the musical element. Rhyme and rhythm are the most palpable constituents of

the poetic work, the skeleton of its unity. In new Spanish poetry there is no

rhyme, and the rhythm is free from any periodicity...'44 According to Peiper,

these characteristics of modern Spanish poetry have both positive and negative

facets. What is positive is that the poem may now concentrate on itself, filter­

ing out anything that is unimportant, unnecessary from the point of view of

poetic syntax. 'Such poems,' says Peiper, 'are instilled with [a] strange appeal.

There is in them a specific, unique concentration, unique gravity, unique solid

density.' At the same time, such desarticulation/disjointedness may lead to the

creation of a large field of interpretative and creative arbitrariness. It may lead

44 Ibidem.

244 also to automatic, i.e. mechanical, and chaotic multiplication of sentences, which could now be freely reordered without affecting the whole of any given poem. Peiper considers these lax formal attributes to permeate much new po­

etry in Spain, and indeed elsewhere.

[IV.14] Two other articles are of interest when examining Peiper's relationships with the international Avant-garde: Fernand Leger45 and Ozenfant i Jeanneret

[Ozenfant and Jeanneret].46 Subjecting Leger's work to a positive critique,

Peiper recognises three main attributes of the painter's work: "will to form"

["wola formy"], "characteristic choice of building material" ["charakterystyczny wybor budulca"], and "love of colour" ["milosc barwy"]. To Peiper, it is form,

and an artist's approach to it, which is tantamount to the single most import­

ant issue in contemporary painting. In the present time, Peiper writes, paint­

ing is finally able to do away with impressionistic, "foggy," formlessness

["aformia"]. The idea is to endow a visual work of art with logical formal quali­

ties: it should constitute an organic whole. A visual work of art does not need

to mirror reality. After all, a painting, as with every other work of art, creates

its own reality: it is reality unto itself. 'Art is a formatted allusion to reality'

[Sztuka jest to uformowana aluzja do rzeczywistosci]. In this context, Leger's

work may be seen as a model example of the new approach to form in painting.

45 Marjan Bielski [Tadeusz Peiper], "Fernand Leger" in: Zwrotnica, May 1922, No. 1,12-14. 4 Marjan Bielski [Tadeusz Peiper], "Ozenfant i Jeanneret" [Ozenfant and Jeanneret] in: Zwrot­ nica, July 1922, No. 2, 39-43.

245 'His paintings resemble (and only resemble) certain real objects, but are always reduced to the simplest shapes, cleaned of any haphazardness, shapes which are best suited to build a painting in a methodical way.' In terms of his "build­ ing material," Leger shows a predilection for "tubular" shapes: 'It is worth not­ ing,' says Peiper, 'that among all stereometric figures it is the cylinder which stands out due to its greatest formal potential... There is something very direct, almost sensual in the aesthetic impact this—one would like to say feminine— geometric figure exercises. And looking at Leger's paintings, at that tender­

ness, at those almost erotic caresses which he bestows upon his cylindrical

forms, one feels that he does not do it under the influence of some cerebral

motives, but does it under the direct spell of the irresistible charm of certain,

defined forms.' According to Peiper, the cylinder possesses dynamism not to

be found in other forms, such as a geometric prism, and is also the only form

which can help synthetically transpose the objects of modern technology onto

the painter's canvas. Thanks to these two qualities, Leger is able to draw

inspiration from those elements of reality which still remain inaccessible to

many painters: large engine rooms and their architectural components, ships'

funnels, machine parts. He, in Peiper's opinion, captures remarkably well the

spirit of the modern day and its technological achievements. Equally praise­

worthy is the manner in which Leger manages colour in his paintings, follow­

ing the Impressionists' enjoyment of colour, yet distancing himself from their

take on form (or lack thereof). And hence the rich palette of colour in his

246 paintings: 'In his paintings the sensual love of colour is one of those elements, in which today's men, desirous of strong stimuli, express themselves the best.'

In the article on Ozenfant and Jeanneret and their Purism, Peiper reasons along the same lines as before, in his Leger text. What he finds particularly positive and thought-provoking in the theory of Purism is its stress on how im­ portant and useful the material products (objects) made (mass-produced) by man - glasses, bottles, vases, plates - are to modern art. These objects are manufactured with one quality in mind: giving them simplicity, usefulness and durability at the lowest possible level of loss of matter and energy. The laws of economy determine these objects' proportions and, therefore, their final form.

As a result, objects emerge which are simple in their external appearance and close to geometric forms; moreover, owing to their close ties to man's everyday life, i.e. their usefulness, they are endowed with the ability to inspire aesthetic reactions. These attributes, in turn, the Purists try to transpose visually and encapsulate in their paintings. While acknowledging their indebtedness to

Cubism, Peiper ends his argument by pointing to the Purists' originality: 'Their painting is their own... Already at first glance we recognise that their style is completely new, unlike anything that was before.'

[IV.15] Peiper's choice of his "international" analytical subjects was not at all accidental. Without a doubt, he elected to concentrate on those aesthetic phe­ nomena, those artistic movements or individual artists, closest to his own phi-

247 losophy - or those to which he was diametrically opposed. What interested him most was to find among various tendencies the ones which confirmed the validity of his own project, and thus he allotted much critical space to the movements to which issues such as rationalistic and orderly approach to form, narrative logic and stylistic purity were of the utmost value: Positivism (with its appreciation of modernity, namely progressive technology), Cubism (with its rethinking of form and geometrisation of the narrative space), Bauhaus (with its focus on objectivity of the creative process and usefulness of its end pro­ ducts), Constructivism (with its understanding of formal order), and Purism

(with its exploration of simplicity and adoration of formal purity).

Yet, when he deemed it necessary, Peiper did not hesitate to offer critical, and negative, analyses of Futurism (discussed elsewhere in this text) as well as

Surrealism, to which he devoted two chapters of the essay Droga rymu [The

Way of Rhyme].47 As Wieslaw Pawei Szymariski observes,48 Peiper begins his discussion of Surrealism in a very contradictory manner. Per Peiper: 'Despite the fact that in poetry I have postulated order and meticulous construction, I will defend Surrealism.'49 At first, he briefly describes the basic tenets of Sur­ realism, and informs on its impact: 'These days in France, Surrealism has be-

47 Tadeusz Peiper, "Droga rymu" [The Way of Rhyme] in: Przeglqd Wspotczesny [The Modern Review], November 1929, No. 91. Reprinted in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), Tecfy. No we usta [This Way. The New Lips] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie 1972) 77- 80. .0 Wieslaw Pawel Szymariski, Neosymbolizm. O awangardowej poezji polskiej w latach trzydzi- estych [Neosymbolism. Studies on Avant-garde Polish Poetry in the 1930s] (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1973) 29ff. 49 Tadeusz Peiper, "Droga rymu," op. cit., 78.

248 come quite known. It goes farther then any other movement concerned with creative linguistic freedom, inspiration, directness. In his manifesto, Andre

Breton describes Surrealism "as pure psychological automatism, through which writers attempt to express the true way mental processes [thoughts] function."

So, it has to be something akin to "the dictate of thought, taking place without

any control of reason and outside any aesthetic or moral concerns."50 The

meaning of this is made even clearer when the author gives, so to speak, a

"manual" of the idea he proposes... Now, it becomes absolutely apparent,'

Peiper continues, 'what are the intentions of Surrealism: the most ideal pas­

sivity toward what occurs in writers' thoughts; the most faithful and therefore

quick and automatic [bezrozumowe] noting down of the stream of thought,

with all its ramifications and convergences, with all that accidentalness and

looseness, and lack of attention to any pre-planned line of thought. Absolute

lack of planning, lack of reasoning, absolute creative chaos in the process of

writing.'51 Peiper then comments upon negative critiques of Surrealism, whose

opponents accused the Surrealists of following 'unattainable illusions;' the im­

possibility of achieving total automatism in the creative process; the impossi­

bility of capturing "pure thoughts;" and the impossibility of excluding reason

from the process of writing, no matter how fast the text is jotted down. These

30 Cf. Andre Breton. Manifestes du surrealisme (Paris: Gallimard, 1981). Breton's original goes as follows: « Automatisme psychique pur par lequel on se propose d'exprimer, soit verbalement, soit par ecrit, soit de toute autre maniere, le foncionnement reel de la pensee. Dictee de la pense, en l'absence de tout controle exerce par la raison, en dehors de toute preoccupation es- thetique ou morale ». 51 Tadeusz Peiper, "Droga rymu" in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), Tqdy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 77.

249 allegations, Peiper writes, may be questioned and explains that it is indeed pos­ sible to employ the strategies of Surrealist writing: although full automatisation of writing and total exclusion of reason from the creative process are not likely to occur, the writer can get very closer to that ideal state. Here, paradoxically perhaps, reason may play an active role in helping the writer to free the text from unnecessary lexical debris: the writer may intentionally lay out a frame­ work within which she or he could employ reason on a limited scale to clean up the work from any unintended elements, which may have found their way into it during the process of automatic writing: in this case, reason acts as a filter of sorts. What Peiper had in mind was likely analogous to musical improvisation, which is based on forming a predetermined framework, in which certain ele­ ments (intuitively selected possibilities of the material) may automatically ap­ pear, and from which some are automatically excluded. During the act of writ­ ing, Peiper elucidates, the writer's thoughts are joined together not only be­ cause of their nature (reason), but also because of the individual nature of words (intrinsic attributes of language), through which they are expressed.

Taking advantage of this, and through specific exercises and practice, the writer may be able to reduce to a minimum the role played by reason. Sur­ realist technique, according to Peiper, is not about absolute exclusion of con­ sciousness from the creative process - it is an attempt at achieving the maxi­ mum level of success possible while aiming to exclude consciousness from the creative act.

250 And then Peiper completely changes direction and concludes: 1 defended

Surrealism in order to demonstrate that it cannot result in a work of art, poetry. How could it? Since the writer's intentional creative act is only re­

duced to jotting down; since there is no plan; since there is no selection of

thoughts - which ones to choose, and which ones to abandon - such proced­

ures cannot lead to creating a work of art, for an inventory cannot be the work

of art.'52 Nevertheless, Surrealism is not a failure, Peiper says. It may not offer

any legitimate works of art, but having introduced new ways of perceiving and

recording mental processes, it has established another new literary genre,

which cannot be put side by side to and associated with any other. This devel­

opment has resulted in a great dilemma for future poetry, now torn between

uncontrolled, subjective psychological explorations ('a motion picture of feel­

ings and thoughts') on one hand, and ideas of a more objective character on

the other. The former brings about poetry which, one presumes, idolises indi­

vidual poets and disregards the reader, and the latter poetic works in which the

'author's ego is no more present than in any other man-made product,'53 and

whose main aim is to resonate with various sectors of the potential readership.

Even though history adjudged Peiper's assessment of Surrealism to be in­

correct, his general observations were to a large extent accurate, at least from

the standpoint of his own theory. It is very symptomatic that Surrealism never

52 Tadeusz Peiper, "Droga rymu" in: Tadeusz Peiper (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), Tqdy. Nowe usta, op. cit., 78. 53 Ibidem, 80.

251 made inroads among Polish poets, who found other ways of dealing with the issues analysed by Peiper. His verdict on Surrealism epitomises his position toward the international Avant-garde: sometimes appreciative (Bauhaus, Pur­ ism), sometimes lukewarm (Surrealism), sometimes negative (Futurism) - but never uncritical.

[IV.16] 'Post-WW I literature developed differently in Poland than in the countries of Western Europe. Tragic wartime events found reflection in works written during the war itself and in later retrospective prose, but for the Poles, unlike for many nations of Western Europe, the end of the war marked the thrilling start to the task of setting up the framework of the newly-formed state. There was no place or time for the settling of intellectual scores with the

recent past, as was so important in France and Germany; it was not wartime

grudges but rather the thought of the future that imparted shape to new ar­

tistic agendas.'54 Both Peiper and his colleagues of the Krakow Avant-garde

'were convinced that the way to effect the necessary change in mindset was to

make a breakthrough in people's imagination. Nevertheless, their concepts

concerning the methods and objectives of stimulating the imagination were

diametrically different and closer to the precepts of abstract painting than to

surrealism, as were their concrete artistic postulates and achievements - so in­

novative that painter Wladyslaw Strzemihski could cite Peiper as the precursor

54 Alina Kowalczykowa, "The Interwar Years - 1918-1939" in: Ten Centuries of Polish Literature. Translated from Polish by Daniel Sax (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo IBL PAN, 2004) 203.

252 to his theory of constructivism.'55 Seen in such a context Peiper's ceuvre reflects these attitudes like no other. His were the highly optimistic and idealistic be­ liefs in positive role of art, which he perceived as a force capable of shaping the reality: 'The cult montage of concepts in Peiper's manifesto "Metropolis. Mass.

Machine" [Miasto. Masa. Maszyna] expressed an apology of modern technical

civilization - and hence the postulate of a profound transformation in art, which was intended to take part in shaping this new world... Such inspiration

drawn from the modern world, from the city and civilization, also led... to think

of the Polish avant-gardists in the context of Le Corbusier and his projects to

practically adapt art to meet the needs of modern man.'5

Peiper managed to conceive a literary theory which offered a systemic view

on art in general (he was one of the earliest theorists involved in studying

cinema) and literature in particular; the role of the author and the audience;

and their respective places in socio-temporal space of modernity. Close to

some methodological properties, suggestions and propositions to those of the

Formalists, New Critics as well as Marxists, this theory was nonetheless an ori­

ginal contribution to the literary thought between the two world wars.

In his writings, especially in his best poems, maybe also in the stage play

Skoro go nie ma, he achieved a complete, and highly convincing, union of

theory and poetic practice. It has to be emphasised that Peiper constructed his

theory without being aware of other similar attempts in Russia, England and

55 Ibidem, 212. 5 Ibidem, 213-214.

253 the US. It has to be emphasised, too, that at his best, his poetry reached artistic levels hardly contested by the other Polish avant-garde poets of the inter-war period. That in the end his late output turned out to be unequal to his earlier theoretical and creative feats, indicates a drama of a disillusioned, bitter human being whose life experience, which he at some point rejected, and which during his proverbial heyday he did everything in his power to keep at bay, had finally caught up with him - and his art.

Today, Tadeusz Peiper's position in Polish literature is unassailable. Not

only is he credited with making significant contribution to theory of art and literature, but also, according to Stanislaw Jaworski, with endowing this pro­

gressive theory as well as progressive (avant-garde) literary praxis with strong

moral foundations.57 Jaworski also identifies Peiper as 'probably one of the last

[writers] who believed that writing may influence thinking [perception of re­

ality] - and thinking may influence and change the society.'58 Yet it would be

very unfair to imply that Peiper's idealism proved futile. On the contrary, his

proactive approach was later fully appreciated and imitated by those Polish po­

ets and literary critics—many of them quite prominent—whose aims were

similar to his - in that they used writing as a morally charged weapon against

the inertia of the system, in this case the pseudo-Communist system imposed

in Poland after 1945.

57 Stanislaw Jaworski, "Tadeusz Peiper" in: Anna Skoczek (Ed.), Historia literatury polskiej. Dwudziestolecie miqdzywojenne [The History of Polish Literature. The Interwar Period], Vol. VIII (Bochnia, Krakow, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo SMS, 2006) 306. 5 Ibidem, 307.

254 V. Bibliography

[V.l] General Historical and Cultural References

Bardach, Juliusz (Ed.) Historia panstwa iprawa Polski, Vols. Ill & IV (Warszawa: Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1981)

Beller, Steven. A Concise History of Austria (Cambridge, New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006)

Bieberstein, Aleksander. Zaglada Zydow w Krakowie (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1986)

Bruckner, Aleksander. Tysiqc lat kultury polskiej, Vols. I & II. Edited by Stanislaw Lam (Paris: Ksi^garnia Polska, 1958)

. Roznowiercy polscy (Warszawa: Paristwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1962)

Bullock, Alan. Hitler. A Study in Tyranny (New York: Konecky & Konecky, 1999)

Burckhardt, Jacob. The Civilisation of the Renaissance in Italy (Old Saybrook: Konecky & Konecky, n.d. [2003])

Burleigh, Michael. Germany Turns Eastwards: A Study ofOstforschung in the Third Reich (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988)

Busek, Erhard and Emil Brix. Projekt Mitteleuropa (Wien: Verlag Carl Ueberreuter, 1986)

Buszko, Jozef. Historia Polski. Od niewoli do niepodleglosci 1864 - igi8, Vol. VIII (Krakow: Fogra, 2000)

Chruszczewski, Adam (Ed.) Nation, Church, Culture Essays on Polish History (Lublin: Catholic University of Lublin [Katolicki Uniwersytet Lubelski], 1990)

Cohen, Gary B. Education and Middle-Class Society in Imperial Austria: 1848- 1918 (West Lafayette, Indiana: Purdue University Press, 1996)

Curtis, Glenn E. (Ed.) Poland: A Country Study (Washington, DC: Library of Congress, 1994)

Davies, Norman. White Eagle, Red Star. The Polish-Soviet War, 1919-1920 (London: Orbis Books Ltd., 1983)

255 , God's Playground: A History of Poland (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1985)

# Heart of Europe. A Short History of Poland (Oxford, New York, Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1986)

, Europe: A History (Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press, 1996)

Drozdowski, Marian M. "The National Minorities in Poland in 1918-1939" in: Acta Polonice Historica, No. 22 (1970)

Dyboski, Roman. Poland in World Civilization (New York: J. M. Barrett Corp., 1950) flwKOB, B.A., nojibCKan TeMaTHKa B pyccKoft HCTopHorpa<|>HH Komja XIX- Hanajia XX BeKa [in] H.H. KapeeB, A.A. KopHnmoB, AJI. HoroflHH, B.A. 4>paHii,eB (Pefl.), Hcmopun u ucmopuKu. HcmopuoepafiunecKuu exceeodHUK (MocKBa,i98i)

Dzi^gielewski, Jan, Janusz Ekes, Tadeusz Krawczak, Jan Salkowski, Jerzy Skowronek, Andrzej Szwarc, Jan Tyszkiewicz (Eds.) Encyklopedia Historii Polski, Vol. I (Warszawa: Morex S.C.-Egross 1994), Vol. II (Warszawa: Morex S.C., 1995)

Fras, Zbigniew. Galicja (Wroclaw: Wydawnictwo Dolnoslaskie, 1999)

Gibbon, Edward. The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (Ware: Wordsworth Editions Limited, 1998)

Gross, Jan T., Neighbors: The Destruction of the Jewish Community injedwabne, Poland (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001)

, Fear: Anti-Semitism in Poland After Auschwitz (New York: Random House, 2006)

Hale, John. The Civilization of Europe in the Renaissance (New York: Atheneum; Toronto: Maxwell Macmillan Canada; New York, Oxford, Singapore, Sydney: Maxwell Macmillan International, 1994)

Halecki, Oskar. A History of Poland. 9th Edition (New York: David McKay Company, Inc., 1976)

256 Hartleb, Kazimierz. Kultura Polski: Odzarania dziejowpo dni ostatnie (New York: Roy, Publishers, n.d., ca. 1945)

Hars, Endre (Ed.) Zentren, Peripherien und kollektive Identitaten in Osterreich- Ungarn (Tubingen: Francke, 2006)

Hertz, Aleksander (Lucjan Dobroszycki, Ed.; with a foreword by Czeslaw Milosz). The Jews in Polish Culture (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1988)

Hyde-Price, Adrian. Germany and European Order (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001)

Janczak, Julian K. "The National Structure of the Population in fcodz in the Years 1820-1939" in: Polin, No. 6 (1991)

Jasienica, Pawel. "Z dziejow kultury" in: Tworczosc, Rok XIV, sierpien 1958, NR 6

Jejdruch, Jacek. Constitutions, Elections and Legislatures of Poland, 1493-1903 (Summit, NJ: EJJ Books, 1998)

Kareev, N. I., A., A. Kornilov, A. L. Pogodin and V. A. Frantsev (Eds.) Istoria i istoriki. Istoriograficeskii ezegodnik (Moscow, 1981)

Killinger, Charles L. The history of Italy (Westport: Greenwood Publishing Group, 2002)

Klassen, Peter. A Homeland for Strangers: An Introduction to Mennonites in Poland and Prussia (Hillsboro: Business Press, 1989). Polish translation as Ojczyzna dla Przyhyszaw: Wprowadzenie do historii mennonitow Polsce i Prusach. Tlumaczyl A. Borodin (Warszawa: ABORA, 2002)

Kolek, Leszek S. Polish Culture. An Historical Introduction (Lublin: Maria Sklodowska-Curie University Press, 1997)

Komuda, Jacek. Warchory ipijanice (Lublin: Fabryka S16w, 2004)

Landau, Zbigniew and Jerzy Tomaszewski. The Polish Economy in the Twentieth Century (London: Routledge, 1985)

Lukowski, Jerzy and Hubert Zawadzki, A Concise History of Poland. 2nd Edition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006)

257 Markoff, John. Waves of Democracy. Social Movements and Political Change (Thousand Oaks, CA: Pine Forge Press, 1996)

Mitterbauer, Helga and Andras F. Balogh (Eds.), Zentraleuropa. Ein hybrider Kommunikationsraum (Wien: Praesens, 2006)

Norwich, John Julius. A Short History of Byzantium (London, New York, Victoria, Toronto, Auckland: Penguin Books, 1998)

Oppenheim, Bohdan W. (Ed.) The Polish Catholic Church and the Struggle Against Anti-semitism: An Exchange of American and Polish Experiences. Proceedings of a conference at the Centre for Jewish Culture (Krakow: Judaica Foundation, Centre for Jewish Culture, 2000)

Pogonowski, Iwo Cyprian. Jews in Poland. A Documentary History (New York: Hippocrene Books, 1993)

Polariski, Roman. Roman by Polanski (New York: William Morrow & Co., 1984)

Pus, Wieslaw. "The Development of the City of Lodz (1820 -1939)" in: Polin, No. 6 (1991)

Ransel, David L. and Bozena Shallcross (Eds.) Polish Encounters, Russian Identity (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2005)

Roos, Hans. A History of Modern Poland. From the Foundation of the State in the First World War to the Present Day. Translated from the German by J. R. Foster (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1966)

Rychliriski, Stanislaw. "Na marginesie sprawy w^drowek do miast" in: Samorzqd Terytorialny, 1935, Vol. 1/2

Sawicki, Mikolaj. Dzieje konfliktow polsko-ukraiiiskich, Vols. 1-3 (Warszawa: nakladem autora/author-publisher, Vols. 1 and 21992, Vol. 31994)

Slocombe, G. E., Poland (London: T. C. & E. C. Jack, Limited; New York: Frederick A. Stokes Co., 1916)

Snyder, Timothy. The Reconstruction of Nations: Poland, Ukraine, Lithuania, Belarus, i^6g-iggg (New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 2003)

Stachura, Peter D. (Ed.) Poland between the Wars, igi8-ig^g (Houndmills and London: Macmillan Press Ltd.; New York: St. Martin's Press, Inc., 1998)

258 # Poland, 1918-1945. An interpretive and Documentary history of the Second Republic (London and New York: Routledge, 2004)

Suchodolski, Bogdan. A History of Polish Culture. Translated by E. J. Czerwiriski (Warsaw: Interpress Publishers, 1986)

Tannenbaum, Henryk. "Sila atrakcyjna skupieii wielkomiejskich w Polsce w latach 1921-1931" in: Przeglqd Socjologiczny, 1936, Vol. IV, Tome 1-2

Tazbir, Janusz. Kultura szlachecka w Polsce. Rozkwit, upadek, relikty (Warszawa: Wiedza Powszechna, 1963)

Tomaszewski, Jerzy. Ojczyzna nie tylko Polakow. Mniejszosci narodowe w Polsca w latach 1918-1939 (Warszawa: Mlodziezowa Agencja Wydawnicza, 1985)

ancl zbigniew Landau. Polska w Europie i swiecie 1918-1939 (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo TRIO, 2005)

Tomicki, Jan. II Rzeczpospolita. Oczekiwania i rzeczywistosc (Warszawa: Mlodziezowa Agencja Wydawnicza, 1986)

Torzecki, Ryszard. Polacy i Ukraincy. Sprawa ukrainska w czasie II wojny swiatowej na terenie II Rzeczypospolitej (Warszawa: Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1993)

Wynot, Edward D. Warsaw Between the World Wars. Profile of a Capital City in a Developing Land 1918-1939 (Boulder: East European Monographs, 1983)

Zaiozenia programu polityki ludnosciowej w Polsce. Raport w sprawie polityki migracyjnej panstwa (Warszawa: Rz^dowa Rada Ludnosciowa, 2006)

Zamoyski, Adam. The Polish Way: a Thousand-Year History of the Poles and Their Culture (London: John Murray (Publishers) Ltd, 1987)

Williams, Raymond. The Long Revolution (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961)

Ze sobq. Obok siebie. Przeciwko sobie. Polacy, Zydzi, Austriacy, Niemcy. Tlumaczyl Bartlomiej Hariski (Krakow: Znak, 1995)

Zelenko, Konstantyn. Stosunki polsko-ukrainskie w II Rzeczyspospolitej 1918- 1939 (Lublin: Wydawnictwo FIS, 1994)

259 Zimmerer, Katarzyna. Zamordowany swiat. Losy Zydow w Krakowie lg^g-ig^ (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 2004)

3yeB, .r., MaHyceBHH, A.5L, XpeHOB, H.A. (Pe,a,.), Mcmopua TIoAbuiu, TOM III - 1917-1944, (MocKBa: HH3flaTe;ibCTBo AKa^eMHH HayK CCCP, 1958)

Zarnowski, Janusz. Struktura spoleczna inteligencji w Polsce w latach igi8-ig^g (Warszawa: Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1964)

, Spoleczenstwo Drugiej Rzeczypospolitej igi8-ig^g (Warszawa:

Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1973)

Zbikowski, Andrzej. Zydzi (Wroclaw: Wydawnictwo Dolnoslaskie, 2004)

[V.2] General Artistic and Theoretical References Barthes, Roland. Image, Music, Text, transl. Stephen Heath ( New York: Hill and Wang, 1977)

_ Criticism & Truth, transl. and ed. Katrine Pilcher Keuneman (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987)

Benjamin, Walter. "The work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction" in: Illuminations: Essays and reflections. Translated from the German by H. Zohn (New York: Schocken, 1968)

Boulez, Pierre (Jean-Jacques Nattiez, Ed.) Orientations - Collected Writings by Pierre Boulez (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986)

Breton, Andre. Manifestes du surrealisme (Paris: Gallimard, 1981)

Brown, Earle. Commentary on December'52. Recorded in Berlin on 27 November 1970. The Earle Brown Music Foundation

Brown, Janice and Sonja Arntzen (Eds.) Across Time and Genre: Reading and Writing Japanese Women's Texts (Edmonton: University of Alberta, 2002)

Burger, Peter. Theory oftheAvant-Garde. Translated from the German by Michael Shaw, (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1984)

Cardew, Cornelius. "Modern Music Has Found Its Feet But on What Low Ground," in: The Musical Times, Vol. 105, No. 1459 (Sept.1964)

260 Chabrol, Claude (Ed.) Semiotique narrative et textuelle (Paris: Larousse, 1973)

Chase, Cyntia (Ed.) Romanticism (London and New York: Longman, 1993)

Claudon, Francis. The Concise Encyclopedia of Romanticism. Translated by Susie Saunders (Secaucus, NJ: Chartwell Books, Inc., 1980)

Coleman, Francis J. Contemporary Studies in Aesthetics (New York, St. Louis, San Francisco, Toronto, London, Sydney: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1968)

De Man, Paul. The Resistance to Theory (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1986)

Eco, Umberto. The Role of the Reader. Explorations in the Semiotics of Texts (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1984)

Eliade, Mircea. The Sacred & The Profane. The Nature of Religion. Transl. by William R. Trask (San Diego, New York, London: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1987)

Eliot, Thomas Stearns. The Sacred Wood. Essays on poetry and Criticism (New York: Barnes & Noble, i960?)

# Selected Essays (London: Faber and Faber, 1961)

Eustachiewicz, Leslaw. Obraz wspolczesnych prqdow literackich (Warszawa: Wydawnictwa Szkolne i Pedagogiczne, 1976)

Feller, Ross. "Resistant strains of postmodernism: the music of Helmut Lachenmann and Brian Ferneyhough" in: Judy Lochhead & Joseph Auner (Eds.), Postmodern music—postmodern thought (New York and London: Routledge, 2002)

Folejewski, Zbigniew. "The Place of Futurism in West and South Slavic Poetry" in: Zbigniew Folejewski (Ed.) Canadian Contributions to the 8th International Congress ofSlavists (Ottawa: Canadian Association of Slavists, 1978)

# Futurism and its Place in the Development of Modern Poetry (Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 1980)

Frye, Northrop. Anatomy of Criticism. Four Essays (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1990)

261 Greimas, Algirdas Julien. "Narrative Grammar: Units and Levels" in: Modern Language Notes, 1971, No. 86

_ "Les actants, les acteurs et les figures" in: Claude Chabrol (Ed.), Semiotique narrative et textuelle (Paris: Larousse, 1973)

"Elements of narrative grammar" in: Diacritics, 1977, No. 7

Grella-Mozejko, Piotr."George Crumb Madrigals: Composer in a Magic Theatre" in: The Alberta New Music & Arts Review, Vol. III/IV, No. 4/5 Double issue: Fall 1999/Fall 2002

"When the Sun Rises in the West: the Art of Karen Tanaka" in: Janice Brown and Sonja Arntzen (Eds.) Across Time and Genre: Reading and Writing Japanese Women's Texts (Edmonton: University of Alberta, 2002)

# "Helmut Lachenmann—Style, Sound, Text" in: Contemporary Music Review, Volume 24, Part 1, 2005

Heinstein, Jozef (Ed.) Europejskie awahgardy literackie lat dwudziestych (Wroclaw: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wroclawskiego, 1983)

Herbert, Robert L. Modern Artists On Art. Ten Unabridged Essays (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1964)

Hinz, Klaus-Michel. "Raume der Wollust—zur Kompositiontechnik Helmut Lachenmanns" in: MusikTexte, 1997, 67/68

Horkheimer, Max and Theodor Adorno (Gunzelin Schmid, Ed.) Dialectic of Enlightenment: Philosophical Fragments (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2002)

Hutnikiewicz, Artur. Od czystej formy do literatury faktu. Glowne teorie i programy literackie XX stulecia (Torun: Towarzystwo Naukowe w Toruniu, 1965)

Ilnytzkyj, Oleh. Ukrainian Futurism, 1914-1930. A Historical and Critical Study (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1997)

Jakobiec, Marian. Iwan Franko (Warszawa: Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1958)

262 Jaworski, Stanislaw. Awangarda (Warszawa: Wydawnictwa Szkolne i Pedagogiczne, 1992)

n Zakrety iprzeiomy. Studia o literaturze XX wieku (Krakow: Collegium Columbinum, 2003)

Karcz, Andrzej. The Polish Formalist School and Russian Formalism (Rochester: University of Rochester Press; Krakow: Jagiellonian University Press, 2002)

Kaufman, Wlater (Ed.) The Portable Nietzsche (New York: The Viking Press, 1954)

Krysinski, Wladimir. Carrefours de signes. Essais sur le roman moderne (La Haye, Paris, New York: Mouton Editeur, 1981)

Lemon, Lee T. and Marion J. Reis (Transl. and with an Introduction). Russian Formalist Criticism - Four Essays (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1965)

Lochhead, Judy and Joseph Auner (Eds.) Postmodern music—postmodern thought (New York and London: Routledge, 2002)

Lyotard, Jean-Francois. The DIFFEREND: Phrases in Dispute. Translation by Georges Van Den Abbeele (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988)

Martin, Wallace. Recent Theories of Narrative (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1991)

Matejka, Ladislav, Krystyna Pomorska (Eds.) Readings in Russian Poetics. Formalist and Structuralist Views (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1971)

Matejka, Ladislav (Ed.) Readings in Russian Poetics - Russian Texts (Ann Arbor: Department of Slavic Languages and Literatures, 1971)

Matthiessen, F.O. and C. L. Barber. The Achievement of T. S. Eliot (New York and London: Oxford University Press, 1958)

Morawski, Stefan. "Awangardy XX wieku - stara i nowa" in: Miesiecznik Literacki, Year X, No. 3 (103), March 1975

Mozejko, Edward. "The Twisted Bond: Technological Progress and the Evolution of Russian Literary Avant-Garde" in: Acta Slavica Iaponica, Tomus XI, 1993

263 _ "Literary Modernism: Ambiguity of the Term and Dichotomy of the Movement." Canadian Review of Comparative Literature 25.1.2 (March/June 1998)

_ Realizm socjalistyczny. Teoria. Rozwoj. Upadek (Krak6w: Universitas, 2001)

Mukafovsky, Jan. Aesthetic Function, Norm and Value as Social Facts. Translated from Czech by Mark E. Suino (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 1970)

(Janusz Slawiriski, Ed.) Wsrod znakow i struktur. Transl. Jacek Baluch, Marta Renata Mayenowa, Jozef Mayen, Lucylla Pszczolkowska (Warszawa: Panstwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1970)

Nash, J. M. Cubism, Futurism and Constructivism (London: Thames and Hudson, 1974)

Patterson, David. "Cage and Beyond: An Annotated Interview with Christian Wolff in: Perspectives of New Music, Vol. 32, No. 2 (Summer, 1994)

Poggioli, Renato. The Theory of the Avant-garde. Translated from the Italian by Gerald Fitzgerald (Cambridge, Mass.: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1968)

Preminger, Alex (Ed.) Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1990)

[Pousseur, Henri], The "Scambi Project"

Rimmon-Kenan, Shlomith. Narrative Fiction: Contemporary Poetics (London and New York: Rutledge, 1992)

Rosen, Charles. Romantic Poets, Critics, and Other Madmen (Cambridge, London: Harvard University Press, 1998)

Sadie, Stanley (Ed.) The Norton/Grove Concise Encyclopedia of Music (New York - London: W.W. Norton & Company,i994)

Sadie, Stanley (Ed.) The Norton/Grove Concise Encyclopedia of Music (New York - London: W.W. Norton & Company,1994)

Sarup, Madan. Post-structuralism and Post-modernism (Athens: The University of Georgia Press, 1993)

264 Schaeffer, Boguslaw. Maby informator muzyki XX wieku (Krakow: Polskie Wydawnictwo Muzyczne [PWM], 1975)

# Muzyka XX wieku. Tworcy iproblemy (Krak6w: PWM, 1975)

_ Introduction to Composition (Krakow: PWM 1976)

. Dzieje muzyki (Warszawa: Wydawnictwa Szkolne i Pedagogiczne, 1983)

Scheunemann, Dietrich (Ed.) European Avant-Garde: New Perspectives, (Amsterdam - Atlanta, GA: Rodopi, 2000)

Shklovsky, Victor. "Art as Technique" in: Russian Formalist Criticism - Four Essays, transl. Lee T. Lemon and Marion J. Reis (Lincoln: University of Nebrasca Press, 1965)

Tatarkiewicz, Wladyslaw. Ofilozofii i sztuce (Warszawa: Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1986)

Tynjanov, Jurij and Roman Jakobson. "Problems in the Study of Literature and Language" in: Ladislav Matejka, Krystyna Pomorska (Eds.), Readings in Russian Poetics. Formalist and Structuralist Views (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1971)

Warning, Rainer and Winfried Wehle (Eds.) Lyrik und malerei der Avantgarde (Miinchen: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 1982)

Williams, Raymond. Communications (Harmondsworth, England: Penguin, 1968)

Weisgerber, Jean. "Les avant-gardes litteraires" in: Neohelicon, 1974

Wyka, Kazimierz. Rzecz wyobrazni (Warszawa: Paristwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1977)

Ziarek, Krzysztof. The Historicity of Experience. Modernity, the Avant-Garde, and the Event (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 2001)

[V.3] Polish Literature and Other Arts

Balcerzan, Edward. Poezja polska w latach igi8-ig^g (Warszawa: Wydawnictwa Szkolne i Pedagogiczne, 1996)

265 Bobrowska-Jakubowska, Ewa. Artysci polscy we Francji w latach 1890-1918. Wspolnoty i indywidualnosci (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo DiG, 2004)

Borkowska, Grazyna. Pozytywisci i inni. Mala historia literatury polskiej, Vol. 6 (Warszawa: Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1996)

. "Pozytywizm - blaski i cienie" in: Znak, Nr 2(489) (Krakow: 1996)

} Malgorzata Czermiriska, Ursula Phillips, Pisarki polskie od sredniowiecza do wspolczesnosci. Przewodnik (Gdansk: slowo/obraz terytoria, 2000)

_ Alienated Women. A Study of Polish Women's Fiction 1845 - igi8. Translated by Ursula Phillips (Budapest: Central European University Press, 2001)

Brodzka, Alina and Helena Zaworska, Stefan Zolkiewski (Eds.) Literatura polska 1918 -1975, Vol. I Literatura polska 1918-1932 (Warszawa: Wiedza Powszechna, 1975)

anc[ Miroslawa Puchalska, Malgorzata Semczuk, Anna Sobolewska, Ewa Szary-Matywiecka. Slownik literatury polskiej XX wieku (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossoliriskich, 1993)

Bruckner, Aleksander. Literatura polska. Od jej poczqtkow do chwili obecnej (Paris: Ksi^garnia Polska w Paryzu, 1948)

Brzozowski, Stanislaw (Ed. Henryk Markiewicz). Eseje i studia o literaturze (Wroclaw: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolinskich, 1990)

Bugelski, B. Richard. "Mickiewicz and the West: A Symposium" in: University of Buffalo Studies, XXIII/i (Buffalo: University of Buffalo, 1956)

Bujnicki, Tadeusz and Janusz Maciejewski (Eds.), Przelom antypozytywistyczny w polskiej swiadomosci kulturowej konca XIX wieku (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, Gdansk, fcodz: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolinskich, 1986)

Chruszczynski, Andrzej. U schylku miedzywojnia. Autentyzm literatury polskiej lat 1933 -1939. (Warszawa: Paristwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1987)

Czachowski, Kazimierz. Obraz wspolczesnej literatury polskiej 1884 -1933, Vols. I, II & III (Lwow: Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Ksi^zek Szkolnych, Vols. I & II 1934, Vol. Ill 1936)

266 Dabrowska, Elzbieta. Teksty w ruchu. Powroty baroku w polskiej poezji wspolczesnej (Opole: Uniwersytet Opolski, 2001)

Eustachiewicz, Leslaw. Dwudziestolecie 1919 -1939 (Warszawa: Wydawnictwa Szkolne i Pedagogiczne, 1982)

Feldman, Wilhelm (and Stefan Kolaczkowski). Wspolczesna literatura polska (Krakow: Krakowska Spolka Wydawnicza, 1930)

Filipowicz, Kornel and Kazimierz Bidakowski (Eds.) Cyganeria ipolityka (Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1964)

Franko, Iwan. O literaturze polskiej. Selected and edited by Mikolaj Kuplowski (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1979)

Gillon, Adam, Ludwik Krzyzanowski and Krystyna Olszer (Eds.). Introduction to Modern Polish Literature. An Anthology of Fiction and Poetry (New York: Hippocrene Books, 1982)

Grochowiak, Stanislaw and Janusz Maciejewski (Eds.) Poezja polska. Antologia w ukladzie S. G. ij. M., Vols. I & II (Warszawa: Panstwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1973)

Hutnikiewicz, Artur and Andrzej Lam (Eds.) Literatura polska XX wieku. Przewodnik encyklopedyczny (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN, 2000)

Illg, Jerzy. "Grozi nam plaskosc i wulgarnosc" - z Czeslawem Miloszem rozmawia J. I. ApokryfNo 9 (literary supplement) in: Tygodnik Powszechny No 26/1996

Irzykowski, Karol (Wojciech Glowala, Ed.) Wyborpism krytycznoliterackich (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, Gdansk: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolifiskich, 1975)

_ (Zofia Gorzyna, Ed.) Slon wsrodporcelany (Studia nad nowszq myslq literackq w Polsce) / Lzejszy kaliber (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1976)

# (Andrzej Lam, Ed.) Walka o tresc. Studia z literackie) teorii poznania I Beniaminek (Krakow, Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1976)

Jakubowski, Jan Zygmunt (Ed.) Polska krytyka literacka (1918 -1939) (Warszawa: Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1966)

267 Kadziela, Jerzy, Jerzy Kwiatkowski, Irena Wyczanska (Eds.). Literatura polska w okresie miedzywojennym (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1979)

Keane, Barry. Skamander. The Poets and Their Poetry igi8 - igig (Warszawa: AGADE, 2004)

Kirchner, Hanna and Zbigniew Zabicki (Eds.) Problemy literatury polskiej lat i8go-ig^g Vols. 1 & 2 (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, Gdansk: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolinskich, 1974)

Kleiner, Juliusz (and Wlodzimierz Maciqg). Zarys dziejow literatury polskiej (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, Gdansk: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolinskich, 1972)

g Sentymentalizm i preromantyzm. Studia inedita z literatury porozbiorowej ijg^-1822 (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1975)

Kluba, Agnieszka. Autotelicznosc - Referencyjnosc - Niewyrazalnosc. O nowoczesnej poezji polskiej (igi8-ig^g) (Wroclaw: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wroclawskiego, 2004)

Kornhauser, Julian and Adam Zagajewski. Swiat nie przedstawiony (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1974)

Kozaczewski, Jakub. Polska tradycja literacka w poetyce Nowej Fali (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Naukowe Akademii Pedagogicznej, 2004)

Kridl, Manfred. A Survey of Polish Literature and Culture. Translated from the Polish by Olga Scherer-Virski (New York: Columbia University Press, 1967)

(and Zbigniew Folejewski). "Polish Poetry" in: Alexander Preminger (Ed.), Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1974)

Krzyzanowski, Julian. Historia literatury polskiej (Warszawa: Paristwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1974)

Kuncewicz, Piotr. Leksycon polskich pisarzy wspolczesnych, Vol. IA-M, Vol. II N-Z (Warszawa: GRAF-PUNKT, 1995)

Kwiatkowski, Jerzy. Literatura dwudziestolecia (Warszawa: Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1990)

268 Dwudziestolecie miedzywojenne (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN, 2001)

Leszin-Koperski, Jerzy (Ed.) Za progiem wyhoru (Warszawa: Zrzeszenie Stu- dentow Polskich, 1969)

Lesnodorski, Zygmunt. Wsrod ludzi mojego miasta. Wspomnienia i zapiski (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1968)

Loew, Chaim. Smok w stowiczym gniezdzie (Warszawa, 1934)

, "Zydzi w poezji Odrodzonej Polski" in: Miesiecznik Zydowski, 1934, Vol. I, No. 1

Maciejewska, Irena (Ed.) Poeci dwudziestolecia miedzywojennego, Vols. 1 & 2 (Warszawa: Wiedza Powszechna, 1982)

Maciejewski, Janusz (Ed.) Czytamy wiersze (Warszawa: Ludowa Spoldzielnia Wydawnicza, 1970)

, "Sarmatyzm jako formacja kulturowa" in: Teksty, Nr 4 (1974)

Majerski, Pawel (Ed.) Uklady sprawdzen (w krqgu Nowej Fali) (Katowice: Wydawnictwo Slqsk, 1997)

Markiewicz, Henryk. Literatura i historia (Krakow: Universitas, 1994)

. "Pochwala polskiego pozytywizmu" in: Znak, Nr 2(489) (Krakow: 1996)

Mazur, Aneta. "tagodne prawo pozytywizmu" in: Znak, Nr 2(489) (Krakow: 1996)

Micinski, Boleslaw (Anna Miciriska, Ed.) Pisma: Eseje, artykuiy, listy (Krakow: Znak, 1970)

Mikos, Michael J. Polish Literature from the Middle Ages to the End of the Eighteenth Century. A Bilingual Anthology (Warsaw: Constans, 1999)

Mitosz, Czeslaw. The History of Polish Literature (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1983)

_ Prywatne obowiqzki (Olsztyn: Pojezierze, 1990)

269 , Szukanie ojczyzny. (Krakow: Znak, 1992)

Ostrowski, Jan K. Land of the Winged Horsemen: Art in Poland, 1572-1764 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999)

Paczkowski, Andrzej. Prasa Drugiej Rzeczypospolitej (Warszawa: Instytut Badari Literackich Polskiej Akademii Nauk, 1971)

_ Prasa polska igi8 - ig$g (Warszawa: Panstwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1980)

Papee, Stefan. Kwiaty na ugorze. Rzecz o wspoiczesnej kulturze Wielkopolski (Poznari, 1929)

Piechal, Marian. Zywe zrodla (Warszawa: Ludowa Spoldzielnia Wydawnicza,i985)

Podraza-Kwiatkowska, Maria (Ed.) Programy i dyskusje literackie okresu Miodej Polski (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolinskich, 2000)

Przybos, Julian. Linia i gwar. Szkice, Vols. I & II (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1959)

_ Sens poetycki, Vols. I & II (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1967)

_ Zapiski bez daty (Warszawa: Panstwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1970)

Romanowski, Andrzej. "Czy Czeslaw Milosz musial pisac po polsku?" Apokryf No 9 (literary supplement) in: Tygodnik Powszechny No 26/1996

Sandauer, Artur. O sytuacji pisarza polskiego pochodzenia zydowskiego w XX wieku. (Rzecz, ktorq nie ja powinienem byl napisac...) (Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1982)

Sebyla, Wladyslaw. "Sprawozdanie za rok 1935 w dziedzinie liryki" in: Rocznik Literacki, Nr 3 (Warszawa: Instytut Literacki, 1935)

, "Poezje" in: Pion, Nr 3 (Warszawa: 1936)

Siemion, Ignacy Zenon. „Slawa i znieslawienie. O zyciu i pracach Augustyna Wroblewskiego" in: Analecta 11, Nr 1/2 (Warszawa: Instytut Historii Nauki PAN, 2002)

270 Skoczek, Anna (Ed.) Historia Hteratury polskiej. Romantyzm, Vol. V, Part II (Bochnia, Krakow, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo SMS, 2006)

_ Historia Hteratury polskiej. Pozytywizm, Vol. VI (Bochnia, Krakow, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo SMS, 2006)

. Historia Hteratury polskiej. Mloda Polska, Vol. VII (Bochnia, Krakow, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo SMS, 2006)

_ Historia Hteratury polskiej. Dwudziestolecie miedzywojenne, Vol. VIII (Bochnia, Krakow, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo SMS, 2006)

Slapa, Aleksander. "Oczami ksi^garza" in: Kornel Filipowicz, Kazimierz Bidakowski (Eds.), Cyganeria ipolityka (Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1964)

Sobaszek, Grzegorz and Maciej Tramer. "Krytyk napadl na pisarza" in Dziennik No. 165, 30 October 2006

Sokolowska, Jadwiga and Krystyna Zukowska (Eds.) Poeci polskiego baroku, Vols. I & II (Warszawa: Panstwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1965)

Stej)ieh, Marian and Aleksander Wilkoii (Eds.) Historia Hteratury polskiej w zarysie (Warszawa: Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1987)

and Krzysztof Wozniakowski. Polska lewica Hteracka (Warszawa: Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1985)

Studia Muzealne, Zeszyt XIX (Poznari: Wydawnictwo Muzeum Narodowego w Poznaniu, 2000)

Szacki, Jerzy. "Gdyby pozytywizmu nie bylo..." in: Znak, Nr 2(489) (Krakow: 1996)

Szaruga, Leszek. Polish Literature from 1795: An Introduction [University of Glasgow] ()

Sztachelska, Jolanta (Ed.) Slownik poetow polskich (Biah/stok: Wydawncitwo Luk, 1997)

Ten Centuries of Polish Literature. Translated from Polish by Daniel Sax (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo IBL PAN, 2004)

271 Toczek, Alfred. "Emil Haecker i Jan Matyasik - redaktorzy antagonistycznych dziennikow krakowskich" in: Konspekt, Nr 1/2005 (21) (Krakow: Akademia Pedagogiczna)

Tokarz, Bozena. Poetyka Nowej Fali (Katowice: Uniwersytet Sl^ski, 1990)

Tomkowski, Jan. "Zadnych szans na pozytywizm?" in: Znak, Nr 2(489) (Krakow: 1996)

Ulewicz, Tadeusz. Zagadnienia sarmatyzmu w kulturze i literaturze polskiej (Krakow: Zeszyty Naukowe Uniwersytetu Jagiellonskiego, 1963)

Walas, Teresa. "Przedwczesny pogrzeb pozytywizmu" in: Znak, Nr 2(489) (Krakow: 1996)

Witkowska, Anna and Ryszard Przybylski, Wielka historia literatury polskiej. Romantyzm (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWM, 2002)

Wyka, Kazimierz. Mloda Polska, Vols. I & II (Krakow: Wydawncitwo Literackie, 1987)

Wyka, Marta. "Niewygoda mi^dzyepoki" in: Znak, Nr 2(489) (Krakow: 1996)

_ Literatura polska. Mloda Polska (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 2004)

Zawada, Andrzej. Dwudziestolecie literackie (Wroclaw: Wydawnictwo Dolnoslqskie, 1997)

Zeromski, Stefan. "Snobizm i postep" in: Pisma Stefana Zeromskiego. Pierwsze wydanie zbiorowe. Utwory publicystyczne (Warszawa - Krakow: Wydawnictwo J. Mortkowicza, 1926)

Zolkiewski, Stefan. Kultura literacka (igi8 -1932) (Wroclaw: Ossolineum, 1973)

Zurawski, Slawomir (Ed.) Literatura polska. Encyklopedia PWN. Epoki literackie, prqdy i kierunki, dziela i tworcy (Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN, 2007)

[v.4] Polish Literary Avant-garde

Artykuly programowe awangardy krakowskiej (Wroclaw: Instytut Filologii Polskiej Uniwersytetu Wroclawkiego, 1976)

272 Brz^kowski, Jan. "Awangarda (Rys historyczny)" in: Kultura, Nos. 7-8 (Paris, 1955)

. WKrakowie i w Paryzu (Warszawa: Panstwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1968)

Carpenter, Bogdana. The Poetic Avant-garde in Poland 1918 -1939 (Seattle and London: University of Washington Press, 1983)

Czartoryska, Urszula and Ryszard W. Kluszczynski (Eds.) Wybory i ryzyka awangardy. Studia z teorii awangardy (Lodz, Warszawa: Pafistwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1985)

Delaperriere, Maria. Polskie awangardy a poezja europejska. Studium wyobrazni poetyckiej (Katowice: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Slqskiego, 2004)

Drews, Peter. Die slawische Avantgarde und der Westen (Miinchen: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 1983)

Gerould, Daniel. Twentieth-Century Polish Avant-garde Drama. Plays, Scen­ arios, Critical Documents (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1977)

Jarosinski, Zbigniew and Helena Zaworska (Eds.) Antologia Polskiego futuryzmu i Nowej Sztuki (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, Gdansk: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossoliriskich, 1978)

Jasiehski, Bruno (Edward Balcerzan, Ed.). Utwory poetyckie, manifesty, szkice (Wroclaw: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolihskich, 1972)

Klak, Tadeusz (Ed.) Materialy do dziejow awangardy (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, Gdanski: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolihskich, Wydawnictwo Polskiej Akademii Nauk, 1975)

# Czasopisma awangardy. Czesc 1:1919 -1931 (Wroclaw, Warszawa, Krakow, gdahsk: Zaklad Narodowy im. Ossolihskich, Wydawnictwo Polskiej Akademii Nauk, 1978)

. Stolik Tadeusza Peipera. O strategiach awangardy (Krakow: Oficyna Literacka, 1993)

Kryszak, Janusz. "Legenda, autorytet i triumf awangardy" in: Poezja, Year X, No. 9, September 1974

273 . Katastrofizm ocalajqcy. Z problematyki poezji tzw. Drugiej Awangardy (Bydgoszcz: Pomorze, 1985)

Kurek, Jalu. "Z doswiadczen poetyckich" in: Poezja, Year VI, No. 2, February 1970

. jVfo; Krakow (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1978)

Lam, Andrzej. Polska awangarda poetycka. Programy lat lgiy -1923, Vols. I & II (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1969)

Lee, Stephen Richard. Trudne przymierze. Polska awangarda poetycka w kregu idei lewicy (1918-1939) (Warszawa: Paristwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1982)

Slawinski, Janusz. Koncepcja jezyka Hterackiego awangardy krakowskiej (Krakow: Universitas, 1998)

Stern, Anatol. "Niezwykla historia polskiego futuryzmu (1918 -1968)" in: Glod jednoznacznosci i inne szkice (Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1972)

Stuhr, Jan. Na przelomie. O nowej i stare) poezji (Lwow: Spolka Nakladowa „Odrodzenie", 1921)

Szymanski, Wieslaw Pawet. Z dziejow czasopism literackich w dwudziestoleciu miedzywojennym (Krakow: Wydawnistwo Literackie, 1970)

, Neosymbolizm. O awangardowej poezji polskiej w latach trzydziestych (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1973)

Sliwiriski, Piotr. Poetyckie awangardy. Awangarda przedwojenna (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 2004)

Walczak-Delanois, Dorota. Inne oblicze awangardy (Poznari: Poznanskie Studia Polonistyczne. Seria Literacka, 2001)

Waskiewicz, Andrzej K. W kregu "Zwrotnicy". Studia i szkice z dziejow krakowskiej Awangardy (Krakow, Wroclaw: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1983)

, W kregu futuryzmu i awangardy (Wroclaw: Atut - Wroclawskie Wydawnictwo Oswiatowe, 2003)

Wazyk, Adam. Kwestia gustu (Warszawa: Paristwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1966)

274 . Dziwna historia awangardy (Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1976)

Zahorska, Helena. "Futuryzm i jego ideologia" in: Glos Narodu, 1924, No. 216

Zawodzinski, Karol Wiktor. "Awangarda, jej apogeum i likwidacja" in: Wsrod poetow (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1964)

[V.5] Tadeusz Peiper

(akw). "Peiperowski maj poetycki" in: Tworczosc, Year XXVII, No. 9, September 1971

(asz). "Nowe usta" in: Tworczosc, Year XXVII, No. 9, September 1971

Bienskowski, Zbigniew. "Peiperyzm dzisiaj" in: Tworczosc, Year XXVII, No. 8, August 1971

Birkenmajer, Jozef. "Tadeusz Peiper: Poematy" in: Nowa Ksiqzka, 1936, Vol. VI

Bocian, Marianna. "Papiez awangardy" in: Odra, 1969, Nos. 7/8

Brzejcowski, Jan. "Garsc wspomnien o Peiperze" in: Poezja, March 1970, Year VI, No. 3, March 1970

Chmielowiec, Michal. "Obrona poety Peipera" in: Sygnaty, No. 33 (1937)

Czaykowski, Bogdan. „Poetyka Peipera - uwagi krytyczne" in: Oficyna Poetow, (London, UK) 1968, No. 4 (11)

(ia). "Peryfrastyczny ksztalt nogi" in: Dziennik Ludowy, 1968, No. 286

Jaworski, Stanislaw. Upodstaw awangardy. Tadeusz Peiper pisarz i teoretyk. (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1980)

Klak, Tadeusz. "O zwrotniczym poezji polskiej" in: Kamena, 1969, No. 5

Krynicki, Ryszard. "Paradoksy awangardyzmu" in: Nurt, 1969, No. 12

Krysinski, Wladimir. "Formes du poeme subjectif et du poeme autonome dans les theories de Fernando Pessoa, Vicente Huidobro et Tadeusz Peiper" in: Cadernos de Literatura, No 14 -1983

275 Peiper, Tadeusz (Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.) Tedy. Nowe usta (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1972)

(Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.) O wszystkim ijeszcze o czyms (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1974)

(Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.) Ma lat 22. Krzysztof Kolumb odkrywca (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1977)

(Andrzej K. Waskiewicz, Stanislaw Jaworski, Eds.) Poematy i utwory teatralne (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1979)

(Stanislaw Jaworski, Ed.), Wsrod ludzi na scenach i na ekranie, Vols. I & II (Krakow: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 2000)

Piechal, Marian. "Rewelator nowej poetyki" in: Poezja, March 1970, Year VI, No. 3, March 1970

Przybos, Julian. ""Zwrotnica" Tadeusza Peipera" in: Argumenty, i960, No. 3

"Monografia o Peiperze" in: Nowe Ksiqzki, 1969, No. 23

Slawiriski, Janusz. "Poetyka i poezja Tadeusza Peipera" in: Tworczosc, Year XIV, No. 6, June 1958

Stern, Anatol. "Tworca zdan rozkwitaj^cych. O poezji Tadeusza Peipera" in: Gidd jednoznacznosci i inne szkice (Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1972)

Walihska, Hanna. "Systemy Tadeusza Peipera" in: Nowy Wyraz, No. 4 (1972)

Waskiewicz, Andrzej K. "Dlugowieczne mity" in: Kamena, 1969, No. 7

Szkic do mapy „nowych ust" in: Tworczosc, 1969, No. 4

Zoledziowski, Kasia. Personal interviews on Peiper's family history conducted between 14 September 2006 and 15 February 2008

Zole^dziowska, Jagoda. Personal interviews on Peiper's family history conducted between 17 April 2007 and 20 February 2008

276